


Under Your Skin

by IndiraIshra



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: F/M, Mention of Panic Attacks, Panic Attacks, Protectiveness, Reader Insert, Tags will be added, based on 2018 movie, but slightly in the future, cases of mothers thinking they know best when they don't, expect out of characterness, just tired and fueled mostly by caffiene and simmering rage, possible prejudice/racism themes regarding mutants, reader is no pushover, slight AU, the author attempts moments of comedy, this will either be a slow burn or a swan dive no in between we die like men, venom being horny on main
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-08-02 02:50:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 16
Words: 45,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16296854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndiraIshra/pseuds/IndiraIshra
Summary: You have a secret under your skin you'd rather never got out.Eddie Brock has one too. His is a little more proactive and has a mind of it's own.Honestly, it was probably a mix that wasn't supposed to happen.(Warning: Not as serious as it sounds)





	1. Chapter One

“Look, it’s fine,” you said into your phone for what felt like the hundredth time in this one single phonecall to your mother. “I know what the news is saying but I doubt one woman is going to incite the rage of the ‘Demon of San Francisco’.”

You caught sight of your apartment building and avoided heaving a sigh of relief knowing your mum would only get snippy with you for it. Wedging the phone between your shoulder and ear, you started rummaging through your bag for your keys.

“Right, look, I’m nearly home. I’ll call you tomorrow when it’s not so late. Give my love to Danny and Jonah. Ah – “ you muttered a curse as your keys slipped from your victorious grasp and skittered away under a nearby car.

Your mother’s chastising in your ear would have been funny if you weren’t tired and now down by exactly one set of keys.

“I’ve dropped my keys,” you said curtly into the mouthpiece, taking hold of your phone more securely now you no longer had to dig in the monstrous maw that was your bag. “I’ve really got to go – I know, I know! Bye, bye, bye, bye – “ you added on a few more goodbyes and hoped it would placate her when you hung up before she could string you into another twenty minute of endless chatter.

Slowly lowering into a crouch, and then your hand and knees when you couldn’t immediately see your keys, your breath left you in a frustrated gust of air at seeing them tantalisingly just out of reach. Goddamnit all.

Standing again and dusting the grit of the road from your hand onto your trousers, you glanced around the empty street, lit only by lights and the motel down the road, and then double and triple checked you were actually alone.

Not a soul in sight – not surprising in the quieter parts of the city late at night.

Rubbing your hands together as if to warm them up, you reached for the back end bumper of the car, fingers closing over metal and plastic, the grime of road travelling briefly making your grip slippery.

And then, without even a heave of effort, the back end of the car left the tarmac, balanced at a near forty-five degree angle in your stony grip. It was as easy as picking a book up off the floor. You shuffled your grip along until only your right hand kept the car aloft, crouching with its weight above you as you stretched out with your left hand.

No good.

Straightening up again, both hands secure again, you kicked your foot forward, and felt relief when your toes could line up with the side of the keys. You swept your foot, letting the keys jangle their way across the asphalt. You were almost worried they’d clatter under another car with how hard you’d carelessly kicked them, but they rolled and jingled to a stop against someone’s foot.

Someone who hadn’t been there when you had checked. And double checked. And triple checked.

_Oh shit_ you thought succinctly to yourself, slowly drawing you gaze up from a booted foot, jean clad legs, jacket covered torso, and made eye contact with whoever had caught you out lifting a car in a way a professional weightlifter would envy.

Oh _double_ shit. It was your neighbour. The one who’s name you couldn’t remember, who you only greeted in passing in the mornings or night, aside from that one time you’d held a short conversation when the elevator had broken and both of you had had to take the stairs.

You steeled your spine as your mental faculties pushed past the mass hysteria and slowly began switching themselves on line. Taking a short step back, you dropped the car. The back wheels bounced twice before the car settled, and the sudden blaring of the alarm nearly startled you.

Readjusting the strap of your bag as the lights of the car flashed on and off, illuminating you in and out, you strode forward with purpose and scooped the keys from the floor before scuttling backwards.

He was still staring at you like you’d committed arson. Or lifted a car from the floor without a sweat.

Jabbing a slightly shaking finger forward, you hissed the first thing that came to mind.

“No one will ever believe you.”

Then you spun on your heel and made for the apartment building at a pace you hoped didn’t look like you were trying to flee.

To add insult to injury, you fumbled with your keys at the first door, and without even thinking about it just forced the door handle down, hearing the crunch as the lock forcibly separated from the foundation it had been secured into.

Then you sprinted up the eight flights of stairs to your apartment your lungs burning all the while, afraid if you had waited for the elevator he might have caught up to you.

It irked you that you couldn’t remember his name despite a frustrating familiarity to his face.

* * *

 

You stared at the contents of your apartment, heart still trying to escape from your chest. The door had been locked, bolted, barricaded – well, not quite that far, but you’d flipped every latch on it you owned.

You only lived here because rent was cheap and it meant you could build up savings like a hoarder collecting knick-knacks. You could be in an equally as cheap apartment by the end of the week, pay out for a moving company to move the main furniture for you – if the new place wasn’t already furnished.

Just vanish. Out of sight, out of mind. With luck, your neighbour who’s name still escaped you would believe it to be a trick of the light, or his mind messing with him. But your luck was never that good.

You took a moment to change clothes, work outfit changed for tank top and sweatpants before dropping onto the couch and drawing your laptop closer, grasping for the newspaper underneath it so both were soon on your lap.

No time like the present to fumble your way into finding a new home where the person next door didn’t know you could probably bench press their entire extended family in one go.

The newspaper, the edition you’d picked up yesterday because you’d forgotten to pick today’s up this evening – thanks mum – held absolutely no luck. Nothing stuck out to you, nothing fit the budget you’d set for yourself despite the fact you could settle for something a few hundred dollars higher than the limit you’d set yourself.

Your savings were your lifeline. They let you bugout in times like this. You still had half scattered memories of your mother crying when you’d picked up the fridge at seven years old to help her find the engagement ring your late father had given her when they were young sweethearts and you just a twinkle in their eyes.

_“You can’t tell anyone,”_ she’d gasped into your hair, her tears making your skin damp. _“They’ll take you away from me.”_

At a young age it had frightened you. Now, nearly twenty years later, you just knew it was the vulnerability of a single mother who’d recently been widowed.

Your mother was happily remarried now, and you had a younger brother still in high-school. He hadn’t shown any signs of being able to lift a fridge-freezer yet. You really hoped he wouldn’t.

As you’d grown older, you’d grown wiser. Knew that what you were was called a _mutant._ Something not normal – and that others would hurt you for a simple gene mutation. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

Shaking away the morbid thoughts, you booted up your laptop. As it did its thing, you bustled to make some hot water for coffee and dig around for something to eat. A glance at the clock on the microwave put it close to midnight but you wouldn’t be asleep until well into the early hours of the morning anyway.

As the microwave hummed away with reheating food, you heard the door to the apartment next to you open and close, the thin walls carrying sound. The neighbour who’s name you couldn’t remember lived alone as far as you could tell, had never seen anyone enter or leave apart from him, but on some nights – like tonight – you could heard the soft timbre of his voice, but no reply.

It wasn’t for you to wonder about. Who knows who he spoke to on the phone or Skype or whatever platform was his fancy in order to contact someone else.

Coffee just a touch too sweet and your food a smidgen too hot, you dropped back down onto the sofa, stretching your arms above your head before you started to type away, searching for nearby but not too close and affordable accommodations.

It took you the better part of an hour to jot down the details of three likely looking candidates, scribbling shorthand notes onto a nearby piece of paper. By the time you took a gulp of your coffee it was cold, but you wrinkled your nose and chugged on until the mug was empty. The bottom of it had dregs of sugar and coffee that hadn’t dissolved probably.

The food at least you’d remembered to eat, your stomach a grumbling reminder to your need for sustenance.

It was nearing one in the morning, but the buzz under your skin hadn’t settled, and when you pushed the laptop aside it was so you could get up to pace back and forth, back and forth until you made yourself dizzy.

It would be easy to do some push ups, sit ups, squats, anything to burn the excess. There was a ‘gym’ – the word used loosely – sequestered in the basement but you were still too wary to leave your apartment. The muttering from next door had stopped but that meant nothing as to whether or not he was awake and would hear you leave.

You decided the best option was to sequester yourself into the pile of blankets on the bed and play mindless games on your phone until the point your eyes drooped heavily enough you dropped it onto your face.

Just an average night.

* * *

 

You were awoken by a series of sure, sharp knocks on the front door. You weren’t even fully online as you glanced at your phone – nearly ten am – and shuffled out into the cold of your apartment, grabbing the nearest jacket to cover your arms as they gathered goosebumps.

When you looked out of the peephole there was no one there. A part of you wondered if it was for the person on one side or the other instead, but still went about unlocking the door just in case it was a package left on the doorstep, something that had happened before.

You eased the door open and peered into the hallway. Like something out of a nightmare, your neighbour stepped out of the stairwell your door was right next to.

Oh. Oh no. Hell no. This was not what you were ready for first thing in the morning. You moved to slam the door shut but before you could get it all the way closed, his booted foot was wedged in the gap.

A large part of you debated, if you kept pushing, which would break first, the door or his foot.

“What do you want?” you asked petulantly, even as your heart hammered in your throat. Everybody who knew who the Friends of Humanity were knew to took every encounter with a grain of salt. You wondered if you’d showed your power in front of the wrong person – and you definitely didn’t have the stomach to hurt him to get away.

“Don’t suppose you’d believe me if I asked for a cup’a sugar?” he asked, voice rough as if he hadn’t slept either. In the light of the hallway he looked as rough as you felt, skin almost clammy and bags under his eyes.

“I haven’t got anything to say to you,” you looked down at his feet again, feeling the metal of the door handle starting to warp under your grip. You eased back a little. You weren’t getting the security deposit back.

“No,” the man agreed. “But I’ve got something to say to you. Regarding last night. And I don’t suppose you uh, wanna have this conversation with me in the hallway.”

Something welled in your throat.

“Are you _blackmailing_ me?” your voice was shrill and hurt even your ears, your eyes lifting again in incredulity. That was it. You were breaking his foot or the door, whichever came first to get him out of your home.

He lifted his hands in supplication.

“Let me say what I can out here,” he offered. “Then you decide if I am or not.”

The man was an idiot, but when you stayed silent, hoping your glare was as scary as you wanted it to be.

“I’m not going to say anything about you or your situation,” he began, and he must have seen the doubt on your face. “I’ve been there myself,” he added, and when you began to scoff, a wry smile crossed his face.

“You’ve had someone caught you manhandling something you shouldn’t?” you snipped back sarcastically.

“Something like that.” The wry smile didn’t move. “I’m Eddie Brock.”

You _knew_ you’d recognised his face from somewhere. You’d lived in San Francisco for coming on three years. Within the first four months the scandal of Eddie Brock and his supposed verbal attack on Carlton Drake had aired for weeks straight. Six months after that, the Life Foundation had been exposed for what he was and his name was less of a curse.

“I know what it’s like to uh, not want people know who you are,” he continued and after a long moment deliberation, you opened the door a little further as a silent invitation for him to come out of the hallway.

Eddie stepped into your apartment, appraising its spartan like furnishing with curiosity.

You shut the door, staring at the finger marks warped into the handle.

“What did you want to talk about?” you asked, still staring at the metal. “Cause it sounds like you got everything out at the door.”

“You tried for scary last night,” Eddie offered. “You just looked scared. It uh, wasn’t our intention. Would’ve let you know that if you’d stayed.”

You wondered if he he’d even noticed the slip of the plural.

“You hear the horror stories,” you muttered. “I mean sure, it’s all good if you’re the Avengers, or the X-Men, but a god forbid somebody find a mutant free in the streets and not lynch them.”

“It looks like you can take care of yourself,” Eddie broached it carefully.

You busied yourself with making coffee, hands shaking.

“Do I look like someone who could hurt someone else?” you asked him tiredly. “I have a degree in accounting. I sit in an office job all day, crunch numbers, and come home. I could throw a punch, sure, but what’s the difference in a bruised solar plexus or splitting a man in half. I didn't come with a manual. Coffee?”

You turned to Eddie, holding the coffee jar aloft. He was appraising you, and you knew what he saw. A skinny, if fit and in shape woman. You doubted you pushed anything over five foot six.

“Sounds like something similar has happened before,” he said slowly, and your hand holding the coffee jar spasmed before the ceramic of it was crushed in your hand, showering your toes with coffee and shards alike.

“I think,” you said quietly, feeling your heart thundering in your ears and chest like a racehorse on the last stretch. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, and it was a small consolation he sounded contrite. “But if you’re worried about me telling anyone about this, last night, anything, I won’t.”

“Sure,” you replied, voice sounding far away. “But I’d like you out of my home now.”

Eddie held his hand up, offered another short, soft apology, pausing briefly at the state of your handle before he was gone and the apartment was empty again apart from your ragged breathing.

The urge to throw something, scream, or cry converged on you at once.

You should have taken your mother up on her offer to move home to Seattle.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No real elevators were harmed in the production of this chapter.

**_Idiot._ **

Eddie hadn’t even closed the door behind him before he was being chastised, the symbiote rustling under his skin.

**_If you’re going to put your foot in your mouth like that again at least let me eat it._ **

“You’d be eating us then,” Eddie snipped back. “And don’t use idioms if you don’t understand them.”

He walked into his apartment feeling a swatch of guilt settle in under his collarbone. It hadn’t been anger you’d thrown him out with, but fear, a flicker of memory behind a quickly shuttered expression.

Eddie remembered the way you’d lifted the car last night, as if simply lifting a piece of paper aside to check if an errant bill was placed underneath. He was surprised you hadn’t noticed him sooner, but Venom had dropped into an alleyway before sliding away under skin and settling against bone.

**_What is a mutant?_ **

The symbiote was restless, curious now it had had new knowledge fed into it. Eddie tried to remember if it had ever come up in conversation, on TV, in life. Felt the way something crawled through his mind and flipped through half forgotten memories. Nothing.

Eddie dropped into the worn out sofa, reaching for a notepad.

“Let me explain,” he said, scribbling against the corner of the page until the pen he’d picked up started working. “Say I’m human – “

**_We_** _–_ it stressed **_– and we are not human._**

Eddie felt his lips twitch as he tried to smile.

“Indulge me.” And he felt the smile break free as it murmured a grumbled, **_Always_** back at him.

“So _hypothetically_ I’m human. We were never a thing.” He wrote a row of the letter H across the first line of the notepad. “And this is me. These are the genes, that make me, me. The H stands for human.”

A scoff.

**_We’re not stupid._ **

“No,” Eddie agreed, and moved to the next line down. “But a mutant…” And when he wrote the next row, he wrote two H’s and then two M’s and carried along the pattern until he had as many letters as the row above.

“This is their genes. Something different scattered among everything else. But that’s just at a quick guess from stuff we already know. I’m sure some geneticist somewhere knows how to explain it better.”

There was silence and Eddie imagined it was mulling over what he’d told it. Then –

**_What are we?_ **

Eddie mulled it over, before simply drawing a H with an S curled over the top, the letters intersecting.

**_Looks kinda weird._ **

“I mean, aren’t we?” Eddie replied, crumpling the note up. There was quiet again.

**_If we ate her would we get her power?_ **

“What?” Eddie barked out a surprised laugh. “ _No._ If eating that rat that came out the cupboard last night didn’t turn us more into a rat – which was disgusting by the way – then eating her won’t change anything. Besides, we already have power all our own.”

The hissing sound of something slithering against skin, and Eddie grasped back at the black tendrils that curled around his fingers.

**_We do,_** Venom purred, pleased.

* * *

 

You phoned in sick. You weren’t actually sick, just felt physically ill from the encounter. The trembling in your fingers wouldn’t leave and the phantom sensation of slick and gore on your skin was like what you imagined dipping your hand into acid would feel like.

“Hi,” you said into the phone, and your voice sounded distant and shaky. “Its YN. Can I talk to Mark?”

You paced as you were placed on hold, to one end of the apartment and back to the other. Your heart had yet to slow down in your chest, hammering a pattern into your ribcage. On one of your passes, you stepped into the mess you’d made breaking the coffee jar and cursed softly at the dig of pain in the heel of your foot.

_“Good morning, this is Mark Havers of the accounting department, how can I help?”_

“Mark,” you gasped, sitting down.

_“YN,”_ it was like you could hear the frown in his voice. _“Is everything okay?”_

No. You wanted to wail it, scream it.

“No,” you managed in a normal tone of voice, as normal as you could manage. “I’m sorry, but can I take a personal day?”

It would be a first in your life, one of many by the sounds of it considering the night before. Nearly three years you’d worked for the same company, diligently. Hours and hours of overtime – paid, you weren’t stupid – no sick days, no vacation, just mandatory days given in the week so you’d only work five or six out of seven.

You heard him fumble the phone around and the click of keys. You imagined him picking away with one hand in his hunt and peck method on a keyboard.

_“We have plenty in today. Anything I can help you with?”_

“I’ve, um, I’ve run into some trouble.” You wanted to pace again, but your foot throbbed and you didn’t want to track blood or dig in the ceramic any further than it had already gotten. “I think I need to move from where I am to somewhere else and I’d like to get my affairs into order.”

Another click of keys followed into the silence.

_“I can give you a week,”_ Mark began.

“Just a day – “ you began.

_“A week,”_ Mark said again. _“Moving home isn’t something that can be done in a day, but I imagine you, as thorough as you are, can manage it in a week. You’re a good worker. Had no time off, don’t know how you slipped through the cracks on that.”_ A soft chuckle. _“Your vacation days are through the roof.”_

“I was aiming to just take one year off straight,” you mumbled, mustering the energy to joke.

_“And ruin it for everyone.”_ Mark’s voice was warm. _“Take your time. If the week isn’t enough, give me a call.”_

“Thank you,” you said, putting as much feeling into the words as you could. “Really.”

The day would have let you shove everything important into a bag and flee. Now, you could still do that but organise somewhere to stay.

_“I’ll catch you later,”_ Mark bid his farewells, and you dropped the phone into your lap, staring at the screen that told you it wasn’t even eleven in the morning and your life had gone to hell.

Whatever power had kept you upright left you, and you slumped into the grooves of the sofa, pressing a hand to your face. With every beat of your heart your foot throbbed and really, you should fix that. You should fix a lot of things.

You’re not sure, with his track record, anyone would believe Eddie Brock if he went off spouting your secrets, but you didn’t feel comfortable living next to someone who knew. It was like a nerve had been exposed and you didn’t have the tools to stitch it back together. At least moving to somewhere new would help patch it up.

You lifted your foot, crossing your ankle onto your knee. A nice bloody mess met your eye. Reaching forward, you snagged a few tissues from the box on your cluttered table and used it to pull the dark coloured ceramic from your skin, using the rest of them to staunch the blood flow.

Step one of a thousand and one done.

“Motherfucker,” you whispered to the empty room, and finally doubled over to cry.

* * *

 

You’d done a hack job of patching up your foot in the end. Enough so you could hobble around on it and use the pain to keep yourself grounded. Just because you could feasibly bench press an elephant didn’t mean you were invulnerable.

The floor was swept. While you were at it, you cleaned the piled-up dishes, scrubbed down the counters and rearranged your fridge. Twice. It was nice to eat away the nervous energy. And then, because you were putting it off you started on packing.

It was a shame. While the neighbourhood wasn’t the greatest, it was your home. There was a great café just two blocks over and the local mart had so many options it was truly a gift. You’d have to scout out the new places, book in some viewings. See if they had easy access to the luxuries you were used to.

You were folding a shirt into your suitcase when there was an odd scuffling from the main room. Almost instantly your heart took residence in your throat. By god, by the end of this you’d be having a heart attack.

Setting the shirt down you shuffled into the living room-kitchen combo most small apartments had and whipped around when you saw a shadow flicker in the corner of your eye. There was a crumpled sheet of paper someone had shoved under the door.

You knew immediately who it was from.

The vindictive part of you said to throw it away. The adult, more mature part of you thought maybe – just maybe – you should give Eddie Brock a chance. In his old career he’d only exposed the filthy bits of society, right? And the only filthy thing you’d done was eat three-day old leftover takeaway and live in the bathroom for half a day.

Oh, and that person you’d accidentally put into a coma that caused you to flee Seattle in the first place.

You picked the piece of paper up.

Maybe your instinct to flee was immature. Sure, he’d know, but that didn’t mean you had to run to the other side of the city and hope you didn’t accidentally cross him again in the street.

And he hadn’t run away from _you_ who could probably snap him like a particularly squishy twig.

Unfolding the note, you read the near illegible writing.

_Sorry about the mess. Good at causing those. Coffee at Sybil’s and maybe you can forgive me for being a dick? Just knock if it’s a yes._

Public apology. Smart move. No one was stupid to cause a scene in public – societal convention and all that.

Perhaps – and it was a slim chance – Eddie was actually a decent guy who wasn’t going to wreck your life to the point you had to move to another city again. And you’d never gotten your coffee after the clusterfuck that was this morning.

A large part of you wanted to run, tail tucked between your legs. A small, somehow louder part was just tired of running away from everything that went wrong in your life.

At least, if Eddie Brock turned out to be _not_ a dick, you’d have a neighbour who knew your secret but wouldn’t be a total asshat about it. He’d seemed very sorry as he’d left at least and the look on his face had been haunted and familiar. It was a look you’d seen on your own face in the mirror.

Steeling your spine with what you hoped was the same strength you held in your hands you decided coffee was not a good idea, but at the very least an okay one.

* * *

 

Venom had called him a pussy for pushing the note under the door and not directly facing you. It seemed to be the favoured insult and Eddie enjoyed calling it a parasite in response just to hear Venom spit and snarl and generally be a nuisance without being a danger.

But then there was a knock at the door and in tandem the two of them stopped arguing.

**_Heard her moving. Didn’t think it would be to here._ **

“Sometimes you gotta be subtle about these things,” Eddie muttered, and wiped his palms on his legs.

There was another knock, more timid this time, and Eddie was at the door before he remembered moving, the symbiote snapping back under his skin from where it had propelled him across the third of the apartment in a single breath.

“H-Hey,” he stuttered, and you shuffled nervously in front of the door, a white knuckled grip on the strap of your bag.

“Hi,” you muttered back, keeping your weight leaning to one side as your foot throbbed. “Got your uh, message.” Your eyes nervously darted to your apartment door, only a couple feet away.

“I’m really sorry,” Eddie stressed it, even as he rapidly patted his pockets to see if he had his wallet and keys. “I didn’t actually expect you to show up but my – my keys and wallet I need.” He stepped back, sweeping an arm in invitation.

You nervously stepped in and closed the door behind you. Eddie’s apartment looked more lived in than yours, more than just furniture and actual personality. With Carlton Drake’s exposure you guessed he was no longer in the public eye and bothered.

Eddie fumbled around the apartment gracelessly and it showed in how he moved that he really hadn’t expected you to accept the offer. His jacket was snatched from a kitchen counter, pockets quickly searched before he slung it on.

The keys were grabbed from the table at the same time you shifted your weight again to ease pressure from your foot. He paused and there was something so unnatural about it that goosebumps broke out against your skin.

“Hey, you’re uh, you’re hurt?”

You shrugged a shoulder, rubbing your arm nervously.

“Stood on something sharp.”

Eddie looked at you closely even he zipped his jacket up and deposited his keys into a pocket.

“I mean, I appreciate you coming over despite everything, but if you’ve got trouble with your foot we don’t have to do this.”

You shook your head, adjusting your bag strap.

“No. Lets just…get this over and done with and be civil people.”

At the wounded look on his face, as if what you were doing was a chore and not an attempt at reconciliation with a person you didn’t even _know_ you added –

“Before I chicken out. I don’t think I’d be able to muster up the courage to do this again.”

Something in Eddie’s shoulders relaxed and he stepped around you to open the door, letting you out into the hallway before he locked his apartment, the two of you walking side by side to the elevator. The size of the hallway meant your arms brushed. It felt like Eddie towered over you. Anxiety churned in your stomach.

And then, as luck would have it, the elevator broke down not even halfway to the ground floor.

“Piece of shit,” you heard Eddie curse, and before you could stop yourself, before your stomach could drop out and your nerves leave you, you reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from pushing the emergency button.

You knew for a fact the building was old. The only security cameras were in the lobby by the mailboxes, and outside the front door.

Eddie’s wrist did a weird thing under your grip, like he was trying to pull back and couldn’t. And now he was looking at you in a weird way that made you almost, almost let the nerves get the better of you.

“I’d rather not get stuck in here for the next six hours,” you managed. “Even with the big red button pushed so uh – “ you glanced meaningfully at the doors. “Let me?”

The look from last night was back, and now you realised it wasn’t the look of someone who had caught out an arsonist. He was impressed. The nerves fluttered, but now it felt like butterflies.

You loosened your grip and let him pull his wrist back begging to yourself you hadn’t accidentally bruised him with your sudden grab and application of force to prevent him pulling away.

Shrugging your bag off your shoulder, you went to set it on the floor and Eddie graciously took it from you instead.

The groove of the doors was slim, nowhere to grab. You reached for it anyway, and made your own handles, fingers digging into the metal like it was made of putty, and then slowly pulled. Too much force and you’d probably slam it open and draw attention. The mechanism that opened the doors automatically groaned as it was forced to slide.

The view opened up to you was half floor and half wall, the floor a few feet above you with a gap to squeeze through.

You turned back with a nervous smile on your face.

“Here you go,” Eddie murmured, his voice rough and low as he passed you back your bag. “Need a boost up?”

You looked up at the gap and then down at yourself, wearing a dress that reached your knees. If Eddie boosted you, he’d get an upskirt view. If he didn’t, you’d have to scramble up gracelessly and probably get grease all over yourself.

As if sensing your dilemma, he added, “I’ll keep my eyes closed. Scout’s honour.” He drew a cross over his heart.

When you nodded, he crouched in front of the gap, hands laced together on top of one of his knees. You placed your bad foot, just the toes and not the injured heel, into the cradle of his fingers, one hand nervously resting on his shoulder for support. True to his word, his eyes were already shut.

“After three,” Eddie asked, opening an eye to glance up at you and you nodded.

“Then, one…two…hup!” he applied the upwards pressure at the same time you pushed off with your better foot and your upper body was through the gap. Eddie’s grip moved, one hand under your foot and the other supporting the other ankle until you were through enough to get onto the floor.

“A-All clear,” you called through, quickly pacing to the entrance of the stairwell to get yourself unflustered from the feeling of his warm skin on your bare leg.

Eddie straightened from his crouch in the meantime, rubbing curiously at his wrist where you’d grabbed before.

**_We couldn’t get away,_** was whispered in his head, the symbiote swirling around skin that hadn’t even bruised despite the strength of the grip behind your hand.

“I know,” Eddie muttered back, getting ready to boost himself out, hands reaching for the ledge. Venom made a contemplative noise.

**_That’s hot._ **

Eddie’s cursing as his head banged straight into one crooked elevator door on the way up carried over to you.

Honestly, you really wondered if you should have thrown the note away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I'm going slow. Second chapter yet we somehow haven't gotten past twenty four hours. Yet, at the same time I feel like its going fast. I don't like giving Venom/The Symbiote a gender unless they're actually joined together as one. If you feel uncomfortable or think it's better to give it a gendered 'he' let me know!


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a nice enough experience. You know, except for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> are my end notes broken? it looks like my end notes for chapter one are at the end of chapter two instead. i broke it orz
> 
> i've checked it just turns out every time i post a new chapter it likes to tell the world that yes, i am a monsterfucker. thanks ao3

True to his word, Eddie took you to Sybil’s. As soon as you’d left the confined space of the apartment hallways he’d given you space, walking at a companionable distance down the street.

Somehow being out in the open rather than inside where your irrational mind had decided it was _safe_ set your heart racing.

When Eddie opened the door the bell above it jingled, barely heard above the low murmur of conversation already present in the café. He held it open for you, and you murmured a hurried thanks, head ducked down.

You immediately picked your favourite table, somehow free of people in the early afternoon crowd. It was a nice corner booth, with a view of the door, the window and the counter. You set your bag next to you and felt disproportionately nervous when Eddie didn’t sit down.

“What are you having to drink?” he asked, digging for his wallet. You reached for your bag, at least determined to pay for your own drink as you dug out a few bills.

Your mouth was open when Eddie reached forward to gently push the proffered money away.

“Look,” he said, voice low so it didn’t carry above the hum of background noise. “The way I see it, I at least owe you this. First conversation we have – barring the time in the stairwell when we debated whether or not white chocolate was real chocolate because the elevator was broken – is one where I traumatise you just this morning by not thinking and being inconsiderate.”

You’d felt your face pinch at first, ready to protest, but was honestly surprised he’d remembered a conversation nearly a year ago.

“It’s no big deal,” you managed to reply, bills crinkling between your finger and thumb.

“I can’t very well apologise if you don’t let me do this,” Eddie simply replied and it was such utter bullshit you nearly felt annoyed. An apology was just words and sincere feelings, not coffee and quiet words.

 _But then again,_ your mind said, _if you’ve only experienced one type of apology, can’t there be more?_

You decided, instead, to roll with it.

“Coffee, then,” because that was what he had offered. At an arched brow, you pursed your lips and muttered, “Caramel, two extra shots of espresso.”

A smug look crossed Eddie’s face and then he was walking towards the counter, what could almost be called a spring to his step.

You did suppose sometimes offering a gift was an apology – and the coffee could be a proverbial olive branch as it were, a white flag waving.

As you waited you dug out your phone, tapping in the details to access your bank account, swiping through the screen until you could see the numbers displayed in your savers account. Something primal and still scared in your brain settled. Enough to get away. Always enough.

Your phone was locked and on the table when Eddie returned with a tray, politely placed away but still within arms reach should you need to snatch it and get away.

The cup he placed in front of you might as well have been a soup bowl it was so big; you couldn’t wrap both hands around it, and it nearly scalded your skin when you tried, soaking the warmth down to your very bones.

“So, Jordan,” Eddie began, “Told me was in fact three shots of espresso, and that you always took the cup big enough to have enough coffee to cause, as she quoted ‘for you to see god’.”

Your head shot up from staring into the milky depths of your coffee across the café to catch the eye of the young girl at the counter. She gave you a wink and a jaunty wave, her eyes darting between you and Eddie meaningfully.

“I’m here a lot,” you muttered, trying to ignore what Jordan was trying to imply, drawing your coffee closer and watching as Eddie placed his more conservatively sized cup onto the table alongside an absolutely decadent slice of chocolate cake. It reminded you that you hadn’t had breakfast, but the thought of something that rich made your stomach curdle.

Eddie caught you staring.

“Sorry,” he said, recalcitrant. “Did you want some?”

“Oh! Oh, no, sorry, I was just thinking that Jordan could learn to be a little more discrete when it comes to bothering with other people’s business.”

“You know her well?” Eddie asked, using the side of his fork to pull off a sliver of chocolate cake and place it into his mouth thoughtfully.

“I help Sybil with her taxes sometimes,” you admitted, staring back down into your coffee. The smell wafted up to you and you sighed quietly. “Side effect means getting to know her daughter.”

“You said you were an accountant,” Eddie agreed with a nod. “You do local businesses then?”

“Oh, no, I help Sybil because I like not thinking. Punching in numbers day in day out, cell A to cell B, this variable, that variable, that addition, that deduction. Easy to get lost in it. Much better to get lost in numbers than in thought.”

Like this morning, where Eddie had dregged up memories you’d rather forgotten. A slip up on a quiet street, the crunch and snap of bone, the drag of skin and flesh and the parts of a body that shouldn’t be exposed to the air.

“It’s good you enjoy what you do,” Eddie’s voice broke you out of your ill-timed remembrance and you took a sip of hot coffee, the burn of it down your throat making you wince but grounding you to the real world.

“It pays bills.” This was easy. Coffee and quiet, simple conversation. “Lets me have a little um, wiggle room.”

“You could probably live somewhere a little better,” Eddie probed carefully, his fork methodically taking out another precisely sized piece from the cake.

“I like the wiggle room,” you said shortly, and he simply nodded, licking his lips clean of frosting.

“I have a friend like you,” he finally and suddenly said, setting the fork down with a gentle clink of the metal against the porcelain plate his cake had come on.

The way his words were carefully chosen made you sit up and pay attention. Your hands closed down on your lap instead of your coffee. You couldn’t break your own fingers – well, probably could, but you could feel pain and the coffee cup couldn’t, wouldn’t let you know when to stop.

Eddie took a deep breath, his own curling around his cup. You hadn’t noticed until now but he looked tense. You wondered if you made him as nervous as he made you. It always came with an awful curl of something vile in your chest, like he was afraid of what you’d do to him with power to back it up.

In Eddie’s mind, there was a proud whisper of, **_we’re the friend_**.

“I know if their secret got out, what would happen to their lives.”

**_Death. Destruction. Life on the run and no comforts. Bad._ **

Venom understood him too well sometimes, the pros and cons of sharing mind, body, soul.

**_Always us. Forever._ **

“The damage,” Eddie let his breath out in a gust. “And I’m not blind as to how some people with their own ‘secrets’ are treated in a world like this. I’m not a cruel man, not to those who don’t deserve it. And sure, I’ve exposed my fair share of things that would rather stay buried, but one woman just trying to live her life isn’t something I’m going to ruin.”

Your left hand was gripping your right so tight that your fingers were starting to ache, your nails biting in like blunt teeth. And then you forced yourself to relax and rest your forearms on the table curled around the large cup.

“So, I’m not going to be a feature on the front of the local newspaper?” you tried to force your tone to be light. “’Local Woman Lifts Car, Breaks Elevator’.”

Eddie laughed quietly. “At the best, with no evidence, they’d call me a nutjob. And that would be the nicest word. No, I don’t work in journalism anymore. Just odd jobs, enough to keep a roof and Netflix subscription.”

But something in you had gone cold when he’d mentioned evidence. You remembered the survey of the elevator, the lack of cameras, how you’d known there were only two in the building. The one in the lobby. _The one in the street._

The blood must have drained from your face and your chest was suddenly tight. You didn’t realise Eddie was trying to get your attention until he tapped on your wrist.

“There’s evidence,” you whispered, feeling lightheaded. You’d had all of two sips of coffee and you were ready to vomit it back up. Eddie’s brows pulled together and you were surprised he’d heard you over the hubbub of the café.

His hand was still a gentle pressure of fingertips to the bone of your wrist.

“The outside camera faces the street.”

Your fingers were trembling minutely, and when you pulled your hand back you jostled your cup and hot coffee spilled onto your skin. You couldn’t feel it, heart pounding in your chest.

Your landlord wasn’t Eddie. You remember coming home, greeting him in the lobby as he’d watched TV in the tiny reception, of the X-Men’s recent exploit, the sneer and curl of his lip as he’d spat out the word _mutants_ like it was a curse.

Your phone was in your bag and you were nearly on your feet when Eddie touched your wrist again, this time a napkin to coffee slick skin.

“Calm down a sec,” he rumbled, as if you weren’t on the verge of a panic attack, as if you didn’t need to get out _right now_.

Half standing half sitting, the abrupt stop of the motion of getting up made you sit heavily again.

“Take a deep breath,” he said slowly. “And listen to me. Lindley only checks the footage when there’s been a break in, or when someone official needs to check it. The chance he’ll see twenty minutes of footage out of twenty years is slim.”

That wasn’t really helping, but Eddie wasn’t finished.

“He owes me a favour. I can fix it.”

You wanted to ask how. You blurted out, “Why.”

“I’m trying to redeem myself from being a jerk,” Eddie drew his hand back when he seemed sure you won’t about to bolt, or faint, folding the damp napkin onto the tray off to the side. Your heart still pounded away in your throat. You took a deep gulp of coffee, knowing it wouldn’t help your heart but would help your nerves.

“Trust me, Lindley won’t be a problem.”

 ** _Or we’ll eat him,_** Venom suggested.

Eddie barely refrained from agreeing out loud.

You gripped the coffee cup as tight as you dared, leeching the heat into your slightly clammy hands. Your hair felt like it was stuck to back of your neck with sweat and you could only imagine the look on your face.

Your mother, drunk once, had asked why you’d been afraid of power some would only dream of at your fingertips.

You’d had a thousand words to tell her, how if it was easy to squash metal between your fingertips, what would it be like if it was someone’s skin giving way like it was made of dough, that one day you’d stumbled home drunk and slammed so hard into the doorframe that you’d warped it out of place without even realising and the door wouldn’t shut properly again.

At the fact people would look at you in disdain and fear because you could hold their life at a whim even if it wasn’t your way to hurt people. You hadn’t hugged her since leaving Seattle, not during her numerous visits. She’d understood then, holding you tight as you’d let your arms hang by your sides and let tears gather in your throat and eyes.

Because while today it might be the coffee jar, the day that it was someone else was surely creeping up on you again.

It was so simple. You’d pushed Aiden out of the way of a car, but with fear in your mind and desperation in your movements, you’d caved in his chest cavity and sent him into a wall. He’d taken in what you’d thought were his last gasping breaths, promising you that they’d believe it was a hit and run, that he didn’t blame you and you…

You had run.

In the depths of your phones were the texts you’d gotten from him. Your unwritten replies, the missed phonecalls, your desire that everything could go back to normal as if you weren’t the reason he would have health complications for the rest of his natural life – shorter now than it was before.

It hadn’t been a huge incident. Nobody had died, no matter how close. There hadn’t been a witch hunt. The only flagellation had been self-flagellation. But you knew you couldn’t go back as a principle.

But your thoughts were going on a tangent you couldn’t control again.

“Thank you,” you managed to croak out after a silence that was too long to have been comfortable.

“I’m good at making mistakes. Don’t often get the chance to fix them.” Eddie was watching you with a scrutiny you weren’t sure you appreciated, but he returned to his cake. You hadn’t seen him move much, but it seemed smaller than before he’d left it.

You drank more of your coffee, now it was cool enough to do more than sip at it. The numbness was fading and now your skin stung, glowing red from the burn of the hot liquid.

“You want me to walk you home?” Eddie asked, as if it wasn’t a two-minute walk down the street and a single corner. You shook your head.

“I’ll probably go to the bank,” you mumbled staring into your coffee and drumming your fingers against the cup. You didn’t elaborate that having physical money made it easier to run. Eddie seemed to grasp the concept anyway.

His plate was empty now, barely a crumb left behind.

“I still believe white chocolate is real chocolate,” you said, unbidden, and his sudden laugh was like the sun peeking out from behind rainclouds. If you had to move, it would be a shame to lose what felt like a tentative friendship.

* * *

 

Your bank was like any other. Close enough to be convenient, busy enough to be tedious. The person behind you felt too close, like they were breathing down your neck. The person in front seemed to have all the time in the world to converse with the teller.

The rest of…you wouldn’t call it a date. The rest of your chat had gone smoothly. Eddie had elaborated on some of the odd jobs he did and you weren’t surprised security and doorman were some of the few of them with his towering height and noticeable bulk.

He’d stayed behind at the café when you’d finished your drink, looking at the granules of sugar in the bottom that had dissolved properly because you couldn’t stir well enough in a cup so big. But before you’d left, he’d paid for you to have a coffee to take away, one you still held now, and he himself indulged in another piece of cake.

You wondered how he kept his physique if he ate that much sweet stickiness.

You were just taking a mouthful of coffee when you were called forward, and quickly swallowed, ignoring the sour look on the teller’s face that you’d dare bring a beverage in despite the fact there were no signs stating otherwise.

“How can I help?” she asked you snidely, and you pulled out your purse.

“I’d like to withdraw some money from one of my accounts.”

Her look suggested she thought you were dull and didn’t know how to use an ATM until you told her the amount you wanted withdrawn.

She took her time counting and double counting the bills for you and placed them neatly into an envelope, her attitude at least a little better than before. You thanked her kindly enough and the sourness on her face just sort of faded into a tiredness you knew too well as she smiled back at you.

There was a shortcut you took home – it wasn’t dark, or even cramped, just an alleyway between two streets that stretched only as long as the buildings either side of it, with small gaps in between where one building didn’t meet another and connected to another alleyway.

Someone kicked a can from behind you, the clattering making you flinch just gently as you glanced over you shoulder. It was a mistake.

An arm lashed out, catching you around the throat and casting you against a body. You would have thrashed, if not for the firm pressure of something hard and metal pressed into your lower back, digging painfully into your spine.

You couldn’t see who was behind you. The person in front was the neck breather from the bank.

You were being mugged.

“You don’t struggle,” the guy behind you said in a slow drawl. “Then you don’t get hurt. Simple, yeah?”

It was no less dangerous, but neck breather had a knife, a blade that he flipped around his hand with an ease that suggested practice. He had a look on his face like he didn’t agree with his buddy – struggle or not, this was someone that liked to caused pain.

If it had just been your purse and phone, you could live with the loss. The envelope was burning a hole in your bag and you knew the neck breather knew it was there, the number of bills packed tightly together to let you pay for things without the hassle of being rejected based on the fact some places refused card.

The clock tick ticking until the time you hurt another person had run out.

There was a thud from behind you, but you assumed it was another groupie. Your heart was slow this time. You thought maybe, just maybe, you’d be frightened, but the quiet part of your brain, the cynic, knew these people had hurt others and that there was no lack of people that probably wanted to see them receive the same treatment.

Now was not really the time to be a vigilante, but really, you hadn’t been mugged by someone who looked as if they’d rather slowly carve you up rather than take your money before.

Had you paid close attention, you would have noticed neck breather no longer looked as hungry, was staring at something behind you and the gunman with horror, grip lax on his knife.

You, however, had your eyes closed as you took in a deep breath and without a seconds thought, with only a hint of remorse as you thought of who they might have hunted and hurt before, you lifted your arm and drove your elbow back with all the force you dared to muster.

The crunch as the gunman’s ribcage and abdomen crumpled around your arm was almost a flashback, almost akin to the sound of a thousand leaves under foot if it hadn’t been accompanied by a wet gurgle.

You didn’t hear him hit the floor and briefly, hysterically, wondered if he’d flown out of the alley with the force. Instead of checking, even with feeling blood on your elbow and knowing its sharp point had punched a hole in the gunman before he’d been launched, you watched the neck breather, expecting him to step forward or run, prepared for either outcome.

Neither happened.

From behind you came louder crunching, something wet and slurping, the snapping of bones and viscera parting. A shadow fell over you, and the stink of blood washed over you.

Neck breather took a half step back, throat working uncontrollably, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. His eyes were so wide you could see the whites of them clearly. The knife hit the floor with a clang that sounded too loud in a suddenly oppressive silence.

A large heavy hand, warm like a fever, fell to your shoulder, wicked talons curling down so you could feel just the barest pressure through the material of your dress. On the other side, a black mass leaned forward, level with your jaw, and from the corner of your eye, your body frozen in fear despite the burst of adrenaline, you saw a maw of sharp teeth.

They parted, a tongue lolling out, close enough it nearly touched your cheek. The stink of blood was stronger and what you slowly realised was the Demon of San Francisco spoke.

**_“Thank you for making him so tender and soft_.”**

Your eyes rolled. You were unconscious before you hit the floor.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A close encounter of the Venom side! He couldn't help himself, it was just so nice of you to tenderise the meat. Eddie gets to say nice things, so why can't he, right? He just hasn't got the uh, right grasp on appropriate compliments. he tries.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Survival instinct was a funny thing. One day, yours was going to get you killed. Today was not that day.

You woke all at once. Normally waking was a slow affair, unless you had to be somewhere early and bright. A slow roll in a nest of covers and pillows, the soft rumble of traffic down below.

This, this was nothing like that. You woke up in a jolt. You were still on the floor, and you doubted it had barely been minutes since you’d passed out. The sky was far away above you, and it seemed as if you could taste blood at the back of your mouth.

 ** _“Awake,”_** was rumbled next to you and it was all you had not to pass out again. Of course. An attempted mugging. A possible murder – by yours truly but all evidence eaten. _Eaten._

Everything in you went still and afraid as a large hand curled around your shoulder again, wickedly tipped claws awfully close to the thin, delicate skin of your neck. This was it. This was how you died.

Instead you were pulled carefully to a sitting position, Venom, because who else, _what_ else could this be, sliding his grip to your upper arm instead.

He – and you weren’t sure if he was appropriate, if it was an _it_ or a _they_ and had to swallow the hysterical giggle of making sure you didn’t gender conform for what the city called a Demon.

Regardless, Venom was crouched next to you, head tipped to the side like a curious dog, fingers so long they overlapped on your arm. It was a loose grip. If you tried, you could probably pull your arm free.

Your knee and hip throbbed, probably from where you’d hit the ground like a puppet with strings cut. You couldn’t look away from the monstrous face next to yours. Venom’s tongue snuck out to taste the air, absurdly like a snake.

This time it wasn’t a giggle trying to escape. It was a scream, crawling up your throat.

The grip on your arm tugged until you were forced to your feet, Venom lifting to a towering height above you. You could barely keep your weight on your leg, but you were afraid any wrong movement might be seen as offensive, might tip you over the balance from obvious curiosity to snack.

 ** _“We are Venom,”_** he greeted, in a deep, rasping voice. You didn’t question the plural beyond wondering if it was a royal pronoun, a snobbish sort of way to regard oneself.

He cocked his head to the side again, as if trying to draw his height closer to yours. The hand had dropped from your arm, but Venom himself wasn’t a solid mass, seemed like a constant coiling mess of a void. Bits and pieces of it reached towards you, like drops of water suspended in animation.

 ** _“We know who you are,”_** he continued, face leaning in close. He still reeked of blood. There was a scrap that might have been denim stuck between some of his ridiculously frightening teeth. Why someone, anyone,  _anything_ needed teeth that large was beyond your realm of thought.

And you don’t know why that tipped you over the edge, but the sheer _terror_ of knowing this creature _knew who you were_ well. Fear did many strange things to the human mind.

You swung wildly, harder than you’ve ever dared to do before. Your knuckles connected with most of his jaw and your knuckles were sliced to near ribbons on those sharp, sharp teeth. You felt some of them crack and split, shards of bone splintering off. But, possibly the most surprising result, was that he was sent bouncing down the alley with the force of your punch.

He went flying, didn’t throw out that inky blackness fast enough before he was tumbling into the crowded street. Like a bomb had gone off, you heard the screech of brakes, the shrill screams of bystanders, civilians. Something crashed, metal shrieking in protest.

Hand bleeding, knee swollen and mind screaming, you bolted like a rabbit fleeing the fox.

You weren’t followed. You didn’t entertain the thought that he’d lost you. He’d let you go.

* * *

 

You’d vomited in the street, once, held your breath and then vomited again before entering the apartment building grateful somewhat that the lock was broken from your impromptu flee yesterday evening. Your knee was a bruised, scabby mess. Your knuckles were still bleeding.

You reached your home and abruptly realised that you’d left your bag behind. Your keys, your purse, your phone. Your savings.

There was a key you kept on top of the doorframe in emergencies. A cliché place to hide it, but you had nothing worth stealing, not really. You walked into your apartment and sat on the sofa, feeling numb. Everything ached. You were bleeding everywhere.

Something that had crawled out of the ass-crack of your worst nightmare knew who you were.

What was it you had told your mum the other day? That she had no need to worry, you wouldn’t garner the attention of what was probably the most dangerous thing residing in the city if one didn’t count yourself?

You hit things hard and bent rebar. Venom ate people. He was infinitely more dangerous than you.

Your self-contained hysteria didn’t last long. If there was one thing you were good at, it was packing up and leaving. Your suitcase was half ready. You had enough in spare change to get a plane, a train, a goddamn cab, anything to get away from San Francisco.

You staggered to your feet and your entire left leg crumpled from underneath you. The coffee table was taken out by your tumble, weak legs and weaker wood splintering under the weight and force of your mutant body.

Adrenaline had gotten you home. There was none of that now, just a bone deep ache. You heard something next door go bang; the noise had probably startled Eddie. One door slammed, distant, then another, the front door.

Barely two seconds later there was a brisk knock on your door, Eddie’s voice lifted hesitantly to call your name. There were threads of worry in his tone.

Sheer force of will got you to your feet. It took you longer than was probably necessary to get to the door.

“Christ,” Eddie’s voice was hushed. “What happened?” He knew, of course. No need to freak you out further by explaining how.

 ** _Already apologised,_** the symbiote hissed at him. Eddie ignored the harsh pinch to the back of his neck.

 _To me,_ he waspishly replied.  _Not to her,_

“I uh, had an encounter.” A giggle, just a short noise of hysteria slipped from between your lips before you clenched your jaw so hard the ache of it nearly covered the ache of everything else.

“Here – “ Eddie reached a hand out and you immediately, gratefully almost, slumped into the support he offered you. He guided you around the wreckage of your table, back into the embrace of the sofa.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked not unkindly, kneeling next to the sofa so he could probe gentle fingers around the bruised mess of your knee. The whimper that left you was so pitiful that when the tears burned, you let them fall, a hiccup crawling out of your chest.

“I – I lost my bag,” you managed between gasps of breath, the tears refusing to stop. “It has everything, I – I can’t afford to, I can’t…”

Eddie was immediately on his feet, warm hand on the back of your neck so soft in contrast to the one that had been there not half an hour before. He gently pushed until your head was between your knees. That hand stayed there. The other rubbed brisk circles against your back.

You couldn’t catch your breath, heard nothing but ringing in your ears. Every breath you took in refused to leave, filling you further and further like a balloon that was due to pop but couldn’t.

In the distance, Eddie was rambling. It sounded like nonsense, his time back in New York, what it had been like to move to San Francisco, the first night he’d woken in a panic attack of his own because he had no job, no life, no future.

It guided you slowly home, until your eyes no longer burned and for every gasp you took in, a whisper of breath escaped so you no longer felt inflated and ready to burst.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to the floor between your knees. The circles on your back slowed.

“Nothing to apologise for,” Eddie said curtly. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“Bathroom,” it felt difficult to speak. You felt light headed and far away from your body.

Eddie got to his feet, beelining for the bathroom that was set in the same place as his own apartment, if only because the predictability of how these buildings were built.

 ** _Didn’t mean for this,_** Venom sounded as contrite as Eddie had ever heard it. It mostly held disdain for most other life forms.

“I know,” Eddie mumbled, rummaging until he found what he was looking for. There was a clatter from the main room and he rushed back through to find you leaning heavily on the kitchen counter, digging in the freezer.

“You should have stayed sat,” he chastised.

“I used the ice pack a few weeks ago,” you murmured, heartbeat pounding a pain between your eyes. “Thought I’d get some veg out the freezer to make up for it.”

“Here – “ Eddie stepped forward, one arm curling carefully around your back. You leaned your entire right-hand side into him gratefully, heavy weight on your right leg supported by him, barely the tips of your toes of the left foot on the ground.

Together, you manoeuvred back to the sofa. Eddie let you stay sat, let you keep your veg packet grasped tightly in your hand.

He popped open the kit, careful hands testing your knee. It hurt – you weren’t surprised it hurt, as he picked out bits of gravel and scrubbed at dirty skin until he was gently laying down pads of gauze and prompting you to place the cold veg on top, though not before he’d wrapped it in a towel you’d left hanging over the back of the sofa.

How embarrassing. Your apartment wasn’t stellar in terms of cleanliness – except the kitchen you’d scrubbed within an inch of its life that morning.

“Will you be okay if I leave for a bit?”

What? Of course you would be. You were a grown woman. But as you opened your mouth to protest, you faltered, the experience of facing near certain death twice in as many minutes still on the forefront of your mind.

Eddie’s hand was still on top of yours, squeezing gently as you held the veg in place with just the weight of your tired limb.

“It’ll only be a moment,” he promised. “If we’re lucky, your bag is where you left it. Where’d you drop it?”

 ** _We know,_** Venom grumbled, **_let’s just get it._**

_She’ll be suspicious if we know where it is without asking. It’s already bad enough._

The symbiote rustled unhappily. It pinched him again, but gently, almost ruefully.

**_Just wanted to say a nice thing. Didn’t think she’d be so...scared._ **

Unaware of Eddie’s internal dilemma, you dutifully recited and backtracked your steps. You didn’t doubt you’d dropped it in the alleyway, but you told him every step you’d taken since your flight from danger.

“I’ll be back. Keep your fingers crossed.”

Eddie patted your hand once and then stood. He stopped at the doorway, as if double checking you were okay, and then left.

When the door clicked softly behind him, you tried your best not to cry, or devolve into another bout of panic.

Your fingers were still bleeding. How the two of you had missed that you don’t know, but wrapping yourself up seemed to be the best course of action. At the very least, it would make you feel like you had a little more control of your life.

* * *

 

The door opening startled you, and you winced as your eyes fluttered open. You’d taken some painkillers from the kit, probably more than necessary, after wrapping your fingers with bandages and gauze and drowning them in everything antiseptic you could find.

Eddie froze in the doorway, looking apologetic at startling you.

“Sorry,” he whispered, and you don’t know why he was keeping his voice down but the quiet was appreciated. In his hand was your bag.

You made to stand but he’d crossed the room faster than you’d expected and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You found it.” Your eyes were burning.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, easing you back into the sofa. You told yourself you wanted to cry because of the pain. When you were settled, he placed it into your shaking hands. His brow furrowed at your wrapped knuckles.

**_Good punch._ **

Eddie refrained from licking his lips, knowing there would be no blood left there, his or yours.

“There’s blood on it though. Found it in the alleyway,” he added, apologetic and you wondered why. You also wondered who’s blood it was.

“Probably not mine,” you mumbled, shaking fingers fumbling the clasp and opening it. A stubborn tear rolled down and you scrubbed your face with your good hand.

It was all there. There was somehow blood on the envelope, sticky little fingerprints, but you weren’t going to question your good luck.

“Thank you,” you managed to croak out. “Thank you so much.”

Eddie shrugged a shoulder and he suddenly looked awkward. Maybe he hadn’t been thanked in a while. You flipped open the envelope. All four and a half grand accounted for, bills as crisp as when they’d left the teller’s hands.

“Do you want some help?” Eddie asked, and broadly gestured to the remains of your table. You stared at the mess, envelope still clutched in your hands so tight the paper was crinkling.

“Maybe…maybe later,” you hazarded. The emotional part was still choking you. The part of you that was dulled by painkillers was dragging you down into exhaustion.

Eddie picked up the strip of tablets you’d taken from.

“These are strong,” he noted. “Not usual stock for a kit.”

“I get migraines sometimes,” you admitted, letting your eyes shut slowly, unable to help yourself. “Better to have them at hand rather than feel like I want to pop my eye out.”

Eddie hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t speak. You heard him move around and must have dozed again because you woke with a hiss of pain when pressure was placed on your hip.

The floor was clear of debris, two bin bags already piled by the front door. Eddie was frozen over you, one hand already curled around your shoulders, the other slowly easing away from your hip.

“Sorry.”

You tried to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, but just blinked hazily up at him.

“Here,” Eddie murmured, voice soft and low again, worming his arm under your thighs instead. This guy did _not_ know the concept of personal space, but you felt too haggard and loose to complain. With barely any effort, Eddie had you in his arms. When gravity made you slip slightly down, the back of your legs were caught with the crook of his elbow. The other arm stayed secure around your shoulders.

“m’fine,” you managed, tongue like lead. Everything felt loose, the painkillers analgesic property spreading to even your fingertips. Even the sharp pain that had woken you up was drifting under the haze.

“Sleeping on the sofa won’t do you any good,” Eddie told you, picking his way through the apartment to your bedroom, finding his way easily, no doubt because his own was set up identically.

Your suitcase was still half packed and open on the bed, and you felt him pause.

“I can take it from here,” you mumbled, licking your dry lips several times.

“Okay,” Eddie agreed warmly. “Let me get you a glass of water.”

You slowly zipped the suitcase shut and pushed it off of the bed, letting it fall with a soft thump. True to his word, Eddie returned with a glass of water and even your bag.

“Your spare key was with the mess on the floor. Where do you keep it when you lock up, I’ll put it there, unless – “ his mouth pinched as he set the glass of water down on the bedside locker.

“Unless?” you asked, lazy, heavy limbs struggling with the covers. Eddie was kind enough to leave you your dignity and didn’t tuck you in.

“Mind if I check in on you?”

“You mean keep the key,” you said slowly, fingers curling tightly in the covers.

“Just to check on you,” Eddie affirmed. “Just to make sure you’re okay.”

You sat there, covers drawn up to your thighs and upper body supported by the headboard. Reaching for your bag, you fumbled your phone out to check the time. It wasn’t even two in the afternoon and you felt as if you’d been awake for twenty four hours.

Before you could stop yourself, you asked, “Dinner?”

Eddie looked at you, confused.

“I mean,” you sounded the words out carefully, making sure not to slur. “We can have dinner? As thanks,” you tacked on. “That way you can check on me, and I can get a decent meal in. Don’t worry, I know how to cook.”

You tried to smile. Eddie just looked distressed, mouth pinching a little further.

“Sure,” he finally replied. “I think the bedroom connects to my living room. Give a knock on the wall if you need me.”

“Or,” you continued, feeling bolstered by the light feeling the painkillers were giving you, “You can give me your number.”

**_Score._ **

_No, you stop that,_ Eddie hissed mentally back. Outwardly, he let himself smile and you thought quietly to yourself that it was a better look than the tight worry from before.

“Sounds like a plan,” he agreed, and accepted your unlocked phone to tap his number in, thumbs crossing the screen quickly with the ease of practice.

Passing it back, you found he’d saved his details simply under ‘Eddie Brock – Neighbour’. You took the chance to delete the word neighbour. You doubted you’d see another Eddie Brock in your lifetime.

“If I’m not up by six, feel free to break in,” you joked, yawning so wide your jaw cracked audibly. “I did promise food.”

“Six it is,” Eddie hovered in the doorway, watching a little closely as you slowly lowered yourself down the length of the bed. He stayed there, then made the move to cross the room so he could pull your curtains shut. You probably could have slept with the sun shining in your face, but you were glad for the sentiment.

“Sleep well,” he added on nearly as an afterthought, and he left your bedroom door open a gap. Not a moment later you heard the front door close, the key noisily twisting in the lock.

After that, you didn’t know much more, accepting the embrace of drug induced unconsciousness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Venom needs to work on his human interactions past a) just knowing Eddie and b) eating anyone that annoys him.
> 
> Eddie just worries that you haven't had a decent meal since??? when??? even he's not that bad (because Venom is a constant pit of hunger and makes him eat)
> 
> The panic attack was written based off my own experience of them - it's the only type I've ever had so it's the only type I know to write lmao.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a nice dinner with perfectly normal conversation topics. Honestly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to call this chapter 'how deep can Eddie dig his grave before you put him in it'.

You punched a hole straight through your headboard and nearly through the wall when you woke up, flailing limbs and your heart lodged in your throat. Inky fingers and raspy words had plagued your dreams until one of them had woken you up, sharp teeth closing around your head.

It was only half four, two hours since you’d passed out. You still felt sluggish, hazy, but decided to wake up anyway. Your fingers were bleeding again, the sting pervading your thoughts. Swinging your legs out of the bed, you stared down at yourself in dismay.

Your knee was nearly black with the bruise. Your dress had four neat puncture holes in the front, and you didn’t doubt there was one on the back from where Venom – _Venom –_ had gripped onto your shoulder to thank you for tenderising the meat.

You repressed the urge to gag, barely. Nobody would miss the men snatched off the street, except perhaps their mothers. Still. Being eaten was probably not the ideal way to go.

You typed out a quick message on your phone, remembering what Eddie had said about your bedroom adjoining to his living room.

**(xxx):** _If you heard that just an accident, nothing to worry about._

**Eddie Brock:** _thnks 4 the heads up_

What atrocious grammar. He seemed a fast paced man though, no doubt his texts needed to be like that too. The reply was quick too, considering he’d given you his number but you hadn’t given him yours. Process of elimination after all you supposed.

**(xxx):** _I remember offering dinner. Preferences?_

This time, you heard the faint buzz, as if Eddie had moved to be on the side of the room closest to your wall. You weren’t sure if it made you happy or not.

**Eddie Brock:** _no special requests. not 2 much veg if poss_

Tough. The bag you’d used as an on the fly ice pack was defrosted and you’d be cooking the entire thing. Always good to have leftovers though.

You put your phone down, and rather than wobble your way to the wardrobe or dresser, you dragged your suitcase close with your best foot and rummaged through it. Old leggings and a loose top that you’d packed as pyjamas came out.

Slinging them over your arm, you counted to five in your head before heaving to your feet. Your leg threatened to buckle, but you breathed through it. You were aiming for a shower but…the thought of slipping and falling didn’t appeal.

You sat back down, laying out the clothes next to you and reached to grab a hairband and brush off the bedside locker. You threw your hair up into a ponytail, just to keep it out of the way. Then you slowly tugged the dress up and over your head, tossing the material in a faraway corner.

You stood again, braving the two steps across the bedroom it took to place you in front of the full-length mirror. From the waist up you were fine. Everything down on the left was a ruin.

Your hip was as equally as black as your knee but didn’t seem to ache as bad, the joint not as mobile as the one in your leg. It still looked a mess. At least you hadn’t had your face sliced up.

Neck breather had met an ironic end – had wanted to carve you up and ended up as dinner himself. You squashed the hysteria down. You’d been doing that a lot recently.

You got dressed, slowly, carefully. Every wrong move sent twinges of pain down your leg, but it was too early for you to take painkillers – and you didn’t want to be a thankless host who fell asleep in the middle of a dinner you had promised.

Hobbling into the kitchen, you perused your cupboards slowly and carefully, wondering what you could cook that could have a ton of random mixed vegetables as a side. Rummaging thoughtfully, you cursed softly at realising you’d left your phone back into the bedroom.

Several long minutes later, phone in hand, you texted Eddie again.

**(xxx):** _Thoughts on spicy food?_

He sent you a literal okay hand emote in return and nothing else. Man of few words when he wanted to be you supposed.

But it gave you an answer as to what to make and brought out the chicken breast you’d bought the other day and nearly forgotten about. You would have had it somewhat bland, maybe with rice and veggies, all boiled or grilled. Simple, full of protein.

Now you could indulge and make curry. Still a proper meal, but a slightly tastier one and with the time to work on it too.

You leaned heavily into the counter, tapping out another message.

**(xxx):** _Just let yourself in at six_

**Eddie Brock:** _will do_

* * *

 

 ** _Smells good,_** the symbiote sounded grudging, but Eddie knew it was just taking the sense as his own, trying to experience it as Eddie would.

“You don’t have to like it,” Eddie muttered, peeling your key free from his own keyring. “But if you act out or make me look like an idiot I’m going to eat nothing but fruit salad for a week.”

Eddie slapped a hand on his arm when the skin rippled indignantly and warped his jacket.

“Stop it,” Eddie hissed, jabbing the key into the lock. “Best behaviour.”

 ** _Or what? Time out?_** Whoever had taught the alien sarcasm, Eddie would kill them. He ignored the petulant, **_learned it from you._**

“Don’t fucking tempt me,” Eddie unlocked the door briskly. “Besides, if you want to make a good impression, _this_ is how you do it. Not by complimenting someone on their ability to _tenderise a human body.”_

 ** _That was good food,_** the symbiote reminisced, and Eddie licked the back of his teeth at the sensation of bones and muscles parting under sharp jaws, the hot burst of blood flush with the back of his throat.

“For you maybe,” Eddie mumbled, pushing the door open and calling a quick, soft greeting.

**_You enjoyed it too._ **

Eddie didn’t grace that with a dignified response.

“Evening,” you greeted with an almost awkward smile, still in the little kitchenette. “I’ve almost finished dishing up so you can take a seat if you like – sofa or table, your choice.”

Eddie instead moved to the kitchen, waiting patiently and seemingly unknowing of your nervousness at the attention as he watched you place marinated and thoroughly cooked chicken and vegetables onto a plate next to still steaming rice.

It smelled spicy. No matter what the symbiote said, it smelled nice to Eddie at least.

“Which ones mine?”

“Oh, this one.” You pointed with the spoon, reaching across the counter to pull open the cutlery drawer. “Spoon or fork, help yourself. Did you want a drink? I haven’t got any coffee left I’m afraid.” Your voice was cut and dry, though you had tried for humour.

“I’ll have whatever’s one offer. Not fussy at all.”

“I have juice, water, probably some wine? There’s beer in the fridge but I don’t know if its in date because I can’t remember when it went in there.”

Eddie shoved his fork into the middle of the plate to balance it, keeping the plate gripped tight in one hand as he opened the fridge. The beer was on the top shelf, and quick investigation placed it still a few weeks in date.

“It’s good,” he affirmed, and took that, ignoring the hissy fit Venom made at his choice of beverage. If Venom got to eat people, Eddie got to enjoy his beer damnit.

**_It is foul._ **

_You’re just picky._

**_You’re not the one that can taste it festering in the liver._ **

_You get your tongue out of my liver._

**_And keep it where instead exactly?_ **

Eddie barely refrained from flinching at the feel of something slick and warm and damp against the dimples of his lower back and took his hoard to the table, choosing that as opposed to balancing both food and drink on his knees at the sofa. You followed at a slow hobble, and he seemed almost embarrassed and chagrined he didn’t offer to help you cross the room.

“Are you feeling better?”

“A little,” you admitted. “Everything sort of aches, and I’m just a tad nauseous, but whether that’s the tablets or lack of food I don’t know.” You pushed your spoon through the chicken and rice, spreading the sauce.

“You don’t eat much?” Eddie asked, aiming for curious. He seemed almost worried instead.

“When I remember,” you shrugged lazily, spooning a mouthful of food and chewing thoughtfully. When you swallowed, you continued, “My metabolism is quite fast, because of the whole…” you jokingly flexed an arm. Eddie’s eyes were drawn to your freshly bandaged knuckles.

“So really, you should be eating more is what you’re saying?”

“I eat enough for someone my size,” you defended. “Just because I have an excuse, doesn’t mean I have to gorge myself. And it only seems to get faster when I overexert myself.”

“Like lifting a car?” Eddie asked around his own mouthfuls of food.

“That, and punching the Demon of San Francisco in the face,” you weakly added, and looked up in alarm as Eddie spluttered as he swallowed. Alarm rose in you as you thought he was choking, but he cleared it quickly with a swig of beer.

“Not on purpose,” you added, as if it made it any better. “I mean, he’d just eaten someone, told me he knew who I was and I just…” you shrugged. “Sorry, this probably isn’t dinner conversation.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie replied, his voice rough as he cleared his throat. “What did you mean not on purpose?”

“I just got frightened,” you admitted, voice small. “A sort of ‘I’m not ready to die yet’ moment. Fight or flight. Picked a bit of both.” Even quieter, you muttered, “I don’t think he even intended to hurt me.”

**_Of course not. Only the bad guys go crunch._ **

Instead, Eddie replied, “You couldn’t have known any different.”

You nodded, busying yourself with another spoonful.

“I kind of wish I knew how he knew me,” you continued, going back to pushing food around aimlessly.

**_Tell her._ **

_And get punched again?_

**_We’ve been over this. The strength is hot._ **

_A broken jaw is not._

**_Semantics._ **

Eddie was ready to tear his hair out. In retaliation, he chugged the rest of his beer.

“If that’s the case though, maybe I should move.”

Eddie was choking again. You stared at him in something akin to worry, your hand loosely grasping your glass of water.

 ** _As if we wouldn’t know where she’d go_** , was scoffed in his head.

“A bit drastic?” Eddie cleared his throat again.

“Not really,” you took a sip of water, fortified yourself and muttered, “what if you get caught in the crossfire?”

“You think _Venom_ is going to come to your house and fight you? And that I might get caught in the middle?”

**_Dream threesome._ **

_Oh my fucking god I’m going to murder you._

“I punched him in the face!” You set the glass down and thanked yourself and every deity you knew that it didn’t explode on impact with the table. “Surely I’m on the list of ‘to be eaten’.”

“As far as the news says,” Eddie began slowly, “Venom only goes after the bad guys.”

**_Not by choice._ **

_If you tell her that she’ll run screaming._

You looked at him doubtfully and whatever he saw on your face led him to rattle off every Venom altercation that had been aired on the news. And as he laid it out for you, you slowly realised that each and ever incident had involved someone who, somehow, had broken the law.

“So he’s a…vigilante?” you were confused now.

“Somewhat,” Eddie shrugged a shoulder as he replied. “I guess it doesn’t excuse that he eats people but at least it’s not the wrong people.”

**_Again, not by choice._ **

“Regardless, I’d still rather not find myself down an alleyway with him again any time soon. Unless it’s to save me from being stabbed again I suppose.”

“I guess it would explain the blood on your bag,” Eddie offered, ignoring the chant of, **_liar, you know where it came from,_** in his head.

“It would,” you agreed, pushing your food around again. “Did you ever meet him? Doing your odd jobs?”

“I’ve seen glimpses,” Eddie hazarded, as if he wasn’t digging himself into a deeper and deeper hole.

“He’s tall,” you tried not to think too hard about the teeth. “If there’s an ounce of fat on him I’d be surprised. But if he had muscle I’d be surprised, I don’t even know what he’s made of.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth,” Eddie advised. “If he got you out of a dangerous situation and didn’t make it any worse, you can only count your blessings.”

You chewed another mouthful.

“I moved to San Francisco to get away from the drama,” you sighed. “Now my neighbour knows I’m a mutant, my landlord would gut me if he knew, and I punched the most dangerous creature possibly on the planet in the face.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘most dangerous’,” Eddie joked. “I mean, the Hulk is still floating about, right?”

You couldn’t help but snort at that, nearly losing a mouthful of rice all over the table.

* * *

 

Eddie was elbow deep in suds when he blindsided you with a random question. You hadn't wanted him to elbow deep in suds, but hey, he'd insisted on helping despite the fact this was a thank-you dinner for  _him._

“So, I have a friend that’s made a bad first impression with someone he wants to get to know better. Any advice?”

You stared at him, hands still wrapped around a towel which was in turn wrapped around a plate.

“You’re asking me? This is the most interaction I’ve had with someone in the three, four years since I moved here. Unless it’s assignments at work, they can’t seem to stop throwing them at me.”

“I just thought maybe you’d have better insight than me, the estranged, defamed, ridiculed reporter,” Eddie sounded mirthful.

You set the plate onto the counter, accepting the second plate from Eddie’s damp hands as you mulled over the question.

“Apologising would be the first step I guess. It depends on how bad the first impression was?” You looked up and Eddie’s grimace was all you needed to know.

“That bad, huh?”

“Very.”

“Is it someone they need to know?”

“Friend of a friend,” Eddie elaborated. “So social interactions are awkward at best.”

“If it’s a friend of a friend, maybe find out what that person likes?” you shrugged and set the other plate aside, watching as Eddie vigorously scrubbed at the pan you’d cooked the chicken and vegetables in the sauce together. You tried not to think too hard about his forearms.

“Yeah?” Eddie asked, swilling the pan with cold water and eyeing it critically.

“Yeah. Apology gift or something.” Your eyes drifted across the room to the windowsill, where there was an orchid slowly wilting. Aiden had found a local florist and had it delivered. Your favourite plants were succulents. Hardy and difficult to kill. 

You'd hated that he'd been the one to give you an apology gift, not the other way round. Every time you watered it, it was like you feeding the hurt.

“Similar situation huh?” Eddie asked softly and passed you the pan. He was looking at the flower too. What was left of it at any rate.

“I would rather have had an aloe plant,” you tried to joke. “Hard to kill and useful, instead of hard to keep alive and decorative.”

You fell into a companionable silence then, up until Eddie pulled the plug from the sink and the drains gurgled and complained as the water swirled away.

“Need help putting them away?”

“No. I got them out, I’m sure I can get them back in.” You leaned your hip into the counter, keeping your weight from you leg. “Thank you though.”

“Thanks for dinner and the advice,” Eddie replied, accepting the towel so he could dry his hands. Again, you tried not to get caught out staring at his arms, the wiry muscle easily flexing as he towelled his hands.

“I can let you know where I got them done if you like them,” Eddie suddenly said and you nearly blushed because you _had_ been caught staring.

“What?” you asked, startled.

“The tattoos,” he elaborated, arm stretching forward to expose the expanse of colour. He thought you’d been looking at those and not at his arms. Cool, cool, cool.

“I was thinking about getting one,” you admitted, if only to accept the escape from the awkwardness of admitting you'd been admiring his forearms. “But not any time soon. And certainly nothing as intense. Didn’t it hurt?”

“Just a sting.” Eddie shrugged, and crossed the kitchen to grab his jacket. He seemed hesitant, but eventually shrugged it on. You weren’t sure what you could offer if he did want to stay.

“Next time,” you suddenly blurted, “Next time I’ll get dessert too. Chocolate cake, right?”

“Sounds good to me.” Eddie’s voice hit the low, warm pitch again as he zipped his jacket up despite the furthest he had to go was a few feet down a contained, warm hallway.

You smiled, pushing away from the counter so you could at least walk him to the door. He seemed ready to protest, but stood easily in the doorway as you leaned on the door handle. It was still perfectly warped to fit your fingers.

“Thanks for everything,” you said quietly. “Not just for my bag but for…well, everything. It’s been a while since anyone’s been well.” You winced a little. “Accepting.”

“I get that,” Eddie still sounded warm, comforting. “Again, Eddie Brock. I couldn’t even get a job as a dishwasher people didn’t want to associate with me that bad.”

“I don’t think I’ve reached that point yet,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “But if I do, at least I know who to come to for advice.”

“Always,” Eddie promised. It was nearly sombre but for his smile. “Everyone deserves a chance after all.”

“Of course they do,” you agreed, and bid him a soft farewell as he dipped his head. You stayed leaning on the door and made eye contact with him one last time before he disappeared into his apartment.

* * *

 

When you woke up the next morning there was a potted aloe next to the orchid on the windowsill, a note underneath written in near perfect cursive.

_Sorry for scaring you._

You wasted no time in texting Eddie.

**(xxx):** _Motherfucker. ‘Friend’ my ass._

**Eddie Brock:** _i know_

Somehow, you didn’t feel so scared. Not anymore. Not even with the knowledge your neighbour was friends with the thing you’d punched in the face. It somehow made it better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not featured in this chapter:
> 
> \- Eddie going home and frantically calling Anne because you know his handwriting but not hers. Anne is longsuffering but accepting.  
> \- Venom rushing to the nearest garden centre and staring so intently at the potted aloes it made a staff member cry.  
> \- Breaking into your apartment discretely and not just punching through the glass because that would wake you up and Venom getting frustrated at being careful with the stupid fiddly locks.  
> \- Eddie going back to the garden centre and paying for the aloe Venom stole, just slapping bills down in front of the still crying cashier and walking back out without a word.  
> \- Copious amounts of Venom calling Eddie 'pussy' but in the fond way.  
> \- Eddie calling Venom parasite and getting stranded outside of your apartment - on the eighth floor.  
> \- You laughing hysterically thinking about Venom, Demon of San Francisco, holding a pen and writing you a note in flowy, feminine handwriting.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An actual face to face with no broken teeth to speak of.

Pottering around the apartment that morning, still unable to process the fact that Eddie Brock’s so called ‘friend’ was a head-eating vigilante, you started to feel strangely stir crazy. Your gaze kept getting drawn to the aloe. You’d folded the note and rest it against the pot, getting a giggle every-time you imagined Venom trying to write so cursive.

The apartment seemed small when you had no job to go to. Really, all you ever did was go to work, come home and sleep. Sometimes you drank coffee.

You perked up. You could go to Sybil’s with your laptop and see if Mark could give you any work at home stuff now you weren’t in such a dire need to move home so quickly. But then you quickly nipped that idea in the bud because you were pretty sure you were on mandatory vacation leave.

You circled around your living room again. You didn’t hurt as much after having a good, long night’s sleep shortly after tucking away the dishes from the previous dinner.

But still, you felt stir crazy.

You sat down on the sofa, reaching for the pile of papers that Eddie must have set there after clearing up the mess of your table. Guilt briefly stabbed at you, eyes glancing towards the bin bags still stacked by the door.

On top was the list of places you’d decided to try and call in order to get a viewing to move. Next to all three of them were tight, cramped, hand written notes by Eddie, ranking them best to worst dependant on the area and what he knew of the people.

You weren’t sure if that felt like a violation or not. He’d seen your obvious attempts at leaving and given his opinion. It was helpful though. And ignoring the nervous flutter of your heart, you ripped the piece of paper in half, and then half again and again until it was just so many small scraps in your hand that you squashed into a small ball, squeezing until they were stuck together by the force.

You lobbed it half heartedly towards the waste basket in the corner of the room and watched as it bounced off the rim and rolled sadly across the floor, losing a single piece along the way.

You were going to go nuts. Did you even have any hobbies? What had you done with your life except work and duck your head and hide? You should take up a hobby. You couldn’t even go jogging, with your knee throbbing at any odd twist.

Standing up, you made to pace again and instead walked towards the windowsill, dragging a finger under one leaf of the aloe, letting it lift and then drop back down.

A black head popped into view beyond the glass, a voice booming loudly to be heard through the barrier.

**_“Do you like it?!”_ **

This time there was no table to either cushion your fall _or_ break underneath it. You thudded to the floor instead. One of your elbows went straight through one of the floorboards and then there you were, in your pyjamas from the previous night, arm stuck in the floor, and scream stuck in your throat as Venom stared at you from beyond the window.

You couldn’t remember what your security deposit was. You weren’t getting it back.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, trying to get your racing heart under control.

**_“That was neither a yes or a no.”_ **

The wood crunched uncomfortably from underneath you as you pulled your arm out of the hole you’d made in your floor. Sitting up slowly, you simply stared, wondering both how and why he was hanging outside by your window to ask about a goddamn plant.

Something in your brain was still telling you that you were facing a predator, that really, you shouldn’t be entertaining the thought of a well-meaning conversation and should, instead, be sprinting for the door.

You gathered your good knee underneath you, groping out for something to grab so you could pull yourself up. A black length of something appeared in the corner of your eye. You don’t know how something as big as Venom could get silently through your window so damn fast, but when you snapped your head up, neck clicking in protest, there he was, crouched a distance away but reaching a…you didn’t want to say it but you had to. There was a tentacle next to your face.

If he wanted you dead, he’d have done it in the alleyway, you reminded yourself. Not bought you an aloe after asking your neighbour Eddie Brock for advice.

You grabbed it. It had a weird consistency, warm but not quite solid, a little bit slippery almost but not so much you couldn’t grab onto it. You dug your fingers in and pulled yourself upright. When you were on your feet and let it go, it snapped back into place without a sound.

Goddamnit. He still had so many teeth. Nothing to show for how ever many you’d punched out the previous afternoon.

 ** _“You like it?”_** Venom pressed again. He kept his distance, still crouched as if he could make himself small in the minimal space of your apartment.

“It’s…nice,” you managed, keeping your focus on the wall just slightly past his face. If he was offended you couldn’t actually look him in the eye he didn’t show it.

 ** _“Picked it myself,”_** he sounded proud. God he sounded proud.

“Thank you,” you moved slowly across the room, unable to stand any longer. As you moved, so did he, keeping the same amount of distance between the two of you even though it meant he had to contort in a weird fashion.

Your window was wide open. Venom was at least twice as wide. The window had been locked. You stared at it for a good long moment, trying to make sense of it in your head.

“Are you here to visit Eddie?”

 ** _“Why would we do that?”_** Venom cocked his head to the side as if listening to something. **_“Oh. Of course. Yes.”_**

It was weird. This was way too weird. You had the thing that had eaten your would-be mugger asking your opinion on a plant he had given you himself.

“He’s the next apartment over,” you advised, settling into the sofa. He probably moved faster than you. If you said anything wrong and he ate you, at least it would be a mostly painless death. Providing he ate you headfirst like every other person in his life.

 ** _“We know.”_** Venom settled back on his haunches, watching you intently. You had the sudden worry he was here for the long haul.

“Do you want me to text him?” you asked, fingers creeping for your phone.

 ** _“Are we friends now?”_** Venom replied instead. He was very still. You wondered if he even breathed, needed to. It was setting off every alarm in your very human brain that this was a predator. And it wanted to be your friend.

You weren’t sure one aloe plant constituted a friendship. But you also didn’t know if you’d survive should you say that, actually, you weren’t friends.

“Yes?” you drew the syllable out slowly. Venom straightened out then, head a scant few inches from your ceiling. He puffed his chest out, almost proudly.

 ** _“Good!”_** Venom made a move you could only call a saunter. But he made it towards _you._ The flinch you couldn’t contain and Venom stopped again, head tilting unnaturally to the side once more.

“Sorry,” you managed to spit out. “I mean, you’re still very…intimidating.”

 ** _“We know.”_** More pride. You weren’t sure he understood it as you were still very much scared.

“So if you could…keep your distance?” the words were pried from you with great difficulty. Oh lord, the moment he decided you weren’t worth his time any more, why you were worth it in the first place, you would probably die a gruesome death.

 ** _“We don’t understand,”_** Venom began, and your heart leapt up in its rhythm until Venom continued with, **_“but we will keep our distance. Even though you could snap us in half with your pretty hands.”_**

You.exe has stopped running.

The sheer _what the fuck_ of that statement had you meeting his eyes instead of the space next to his face. When you made eye contact, his teeth stretched wide in a grin. You’d heard him right. _You’d heard him right._

“Yesterday,” you said slowly, “I punched you. It – did it hurt?”

 ** _“It did,”_** Venom confirmed, and his tongue lolled from between his teeth. **_“But we liked it.”_**

“Umm?” you didn’t mean to say it out loud, but what could only be a shit eating grin was now on Venom’s face, his tongue hanging out like a panting dog. You don’t know what he was thinking, what _you_ were thinking of him, but hoped it wasn’t the same thing.

 ** _“We’re not asking you to hit us again,”_** Venom said, as if that was what was wrong with his previous statement and you weren’t still internally freaking the fuck out.

**_“But we wouldn’t be averse to watching you hit something else.”_ **

“You like that I can hit things hard?” you managed to reply.

 ** _“The man was very soft,”_** Venom’s voice lowered in a way you wished you hadn’t heard, goosebumps spreading across your skin. **_“All tender. But we’ve been told you don’t like to hurt people so we won’t expect that of you.”_**

“You shouldn’t expect _anything_ from me,” you managed to blurt, and Venom’s tongue was sucked back in with a wet snap sort of noise as he rumbled in a way you could only think was laughter and not his, you don’t know, murder engine or something like that.

 ** _“No. But we’d like to see it again someday.”_** His face twisted. Unbeknownst to you, he was being scolded by Eddie. **_“The power. Not the human punching.”_**

His tongue did a motion like it was tasting the air.

**_“Could you hold us down. Could we not get away.”_ **

Venom was encroaching on territory you did _not_ want to think about. Some tiny, hysterical part of your brain whispered, _bdsm with the Demon of San Francisco._

“I don’t think I’m that strong,” you promised him. “I’m sure you can do way more than I can.”

 ** _“We can try,”_** Venom didn’t seem to know how to phrase a question, turning every possible query into a statement instead. He extended an arm forward as if inviting you to grab it. His wrist seemed almost as thick as your neck. The rest of his arm was even bulkier, looking as if it were made of well defined muscle despite the fact you didn't know if he was made of anything human.

Maybe if you indulged him, he would leave. You crooked a finger, inviting him closer, and he slunk across the floor as silently and smoothly as a cat. A large, monstrous, toothy cat.

He stopped so he was just close enough for you to reach his wrist.

You placed your palm on his wrist where the bone on a normal person would jut out slightly, just below the base of where the bottom of the thumb and the palm met. Briefly, you noted today he had no claws. You wished he had less teeth.

Despite his slightly… _squishy_ sort of texture, Venom had no give. You dug your fingers in and instead met something solid. Then you curled your fingers in and started to apply the pressure, squeezing harder and harder until you were sure had it been a human wrist under your grip it would be no more than a messy pulp of bone and muscle and tendon in your fist.

You felt the moment Venom tried to pull away, the shift of what _had_ to be muscle squirming under your skin, Venom bearing his weight back as you simply squeezed tighter and tighter and tighter and – all of a sudden your fingers breached whatever weird skin Venom was made with, popping through the black gunky substance.

Both of you froze, both as equally surprised. Venom was still on his heels, his entire weight held in place by your fierce grip, like a weird trust fall.

You had broken through, first knuckle deep of each finger and thumb, into the girth of his wrist. It was just as warm underneath his skin as on top, if not warmer. He didn’t bleed.

You were about to lose your goddamn breakfast.

You snatched your hand back so violently that you shredded small pieces of Venom with it, one of them sailing across the room to splat sadly against the wall. He rocked back onto his feet rather than fall back.

You stared at Venom and he stared back, even as the small pieces crawled their way back to the main mass.

Something rose in your throat and you fought to swallow it back down. It wasn’t human viscera. It was just as bad. You were only glad there had been no approximation of blood or gore; _then_ you might have instantly puked instead of swallowing manically and breathing shallowly to ward off the nausea.

“Are we done?” your voice hadn’t really reached that pitch before, but there you go. Venom looked inordinately pleased, even as specks of him were sucked back into his body.

Venom simply stared at you so intently that the roiling in your stomach turned from nausea to worry.

 ** _“Yes. We are done.”_** A pause. **_“Thank you for indulging us.”_**

“You’re welcome,” you muttered, running the pad of your thumb over your nails, as if afraid there were pieces of him stuck under them.

**_“We can visit again?”_ **

Oh boy. _Oh boy._

“Sure,” you hazarded, licking your lips. Whether subconsciously or on purpose, Venom did the same with his stupidly long, stupidly freaky tongue. “Just…no more of this.”

 ** _“At all?”_** Venom looked as if he were doing his best impression of a scolded puppy. In no way did it work. He looked ready to swallow something alive whole.

“Terms and conditions. I don’t want – “ you waved your hand at him openly – “happening again that was _disgusting.”_

 ** _“It was something,”_** Venom replied evasively. You did _not_ read into it. No sirree. No more on that, no thanks.

“Just…I’m sure Eddie is expecting you.” You wondered if you should be a good host and lead him to the window or door – whichever was his preferred method of leaving. As you stood and stepped forward, your foot went straight through the gap your elbow had made not twenty weird minutes before.

You teetered for a long second and when weight went down on your left leg, you resigned yourself to ungracefully impacting the floor again, pain jolting it's way all the way up to your hip.

Instead, you impacted Venom, a huge arm cradling around your shoulders and keeping you from moving even an inch. Without even a pause you were suddenly several feet in the air, splinters of wood falling away as your ankle was removed from the floor. Then, unceremoniously, you were dumped back into the spot on the sofa you’d vacated.

It had all happened in the span of only a few seconds. You hadn't heard or seen him move.

 ** _“We’ll see ourselves out,”_** Venom sounded amused. Almost smug, if you had to put a tone to it.

And damn, if you weren’t sure he wouldn’t somehow get off on it, you would have punched him for it.

* * *

 

You were making lunch, woefully sad and tired at your lack of caffeinated options to drink and lamenting it was too early for alcohol, when your phone buzzed next to you on the counter.

 **Eddie Brock:** _how did it go_

You wiped your hands on your leggings.

 **(xxx):** _Put a hole in my floor and then several in him._

You carried on with your preparations in silence for a few minutes. Another buzz brought your attention back to your phone.

 **Eddie Brock:** _so bad_

 **(xxx):** _Just unexpected. He could learn to knock._

 **Eddie Brock:** _will let him know. need anything? store run in a sec_

 **(xxx):** _Coffee and I’ll forgive you duped me into this. Fancy stuff, I’ll know if it isn’t ;)_

Was it too forward to add a winky face? You sent it anyway.

 **Eddie Brock:** _done_

Dilemma over, neighbour guilt tripped, all in a good day’s work. Oh, and the other thing you were avidly trying to forget actually happened.

And Eddie, god bless his soul, when he showed up at your front door thirty minutes later he not only had the nice coffee from the corner store, but a takeaway cup from Sybil’s.

You could have hugged him if you weren't afraid of snapping his spine in two. Out of the people in your life, you now knew only  _one_ would actually like it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not featured in this chapter:
> 
> \- Venom pacing the wall like an absolute freak waiting for the perfect moment to announce his presence.  
> \- Venom going home and preening because you liked the gift.  
> \- Eddie thanking every god ever that Venom did not have the capacity for spontaneous boners because goddamn when you use your strength like that Venom gets a little hot under the collar.  
> \- (Yes, Venom got chocolate for being a good symbiote)  
> \- One of your neighbours across the way witnessing Venom pacing and subsequently deciding that eleven am was a great time to start on the vodka.  
> \- Eddie letting Venom gush over the phone to Anne about how you'd nearly ruined his entire hand because he has no one else to gush to.  
> \- Venom struggling with the words 'thank you' because Eddie let this happen. It's all fond and mushy. You'll be glad you missed it honestly.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You were socialising like a normal person. If only your mother could see you now.

When Eddie had showed up with coffee, he’d also showed up with groceries, no doubt seeing the sad state of your fridge the previous night when digging around for a beer. He wouldn’t let you pay him, so you invited him to stay for lunch.

You’d made pasta, more than one person could feasibly eat, mostly because when you had free time to cook you liked leftovers, so you wouldn’t have to constantly eat takeaway or convenience food every time you finished work.

The TV was a low murmur in the background as you ate your pasta, good leg tucked comfortably underneath you on the sofa. Eddie was on the other side, leaving the space in the middle free – the sofa could sit three.

“So,” you started, setting your bowl down on the arm of the sofa and rolling your spoon between your hands. “Just throwing this out there, but Venom is really wandering around San Francisco eating people butt ass naked.”

You don’t know if the noise Eddie made was a wheeze, laugh, choke or combination of all three but he was also forced to set down his bowl, reaching for the glass of water on the floor by the leg of the sofa.

“Honestly,” he muttered. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“I don’t think it’s a suit,” you started, “because if it was surely there’d be _some_ noticeable seams. Then there’s the fact that my fingers went into him and came out – and the bits that separated reconnected. Not to mention the fact he can unhinge his entire fucking face and eat people. So that’s just his skin. He’s naked.”

Eddie was laughing now, almost giggles that were squeezed out of him in little wheezes.

“Which begs the fact – is he actually a _he_ – because not that I was looking! But his height puts his crotch at like, eye level when you’re sat down and he’s looming.” You hurriedly waved your spoon at him. “But he’s got no dick. I suppose it helps, because otherwise he’d be rated R for his swinging dong and not just for the people eating.”

**_I could have one if I wanted to._ **

Eddie was going to die by the two-sided assault. He doubled over, trying to compose himself. Venom had never sounded so petulant.

**_You’ve never complained about the alternative._ **

“Did you really want him standing in your apartment with his dick out?” Eddie asked between gasps, thumbing a tear from the corner of his eye.

You thought about how tall he was, how solid he was, how many teeth he had. Then you tried to imagine taking him seriously with a dick hanging out. The snort that left you was inelegant and then you were laughing, reaching a hand out to steady your bowl.

“No! I wouldn’t have been able to take him seriously! He probably would have eaten me for the sheer audacity of laughing at him. Damnit.” You hadn’t laughed that hard in a while, lifting your free hand to wipe at your eyes. You probably looked like a mess, still in pyjamas, eating pasta, crying from laughter.

“I’m sorry,” you managed after a few minutes of uncontainable giggles. Whenever you calmed down Eddie would meet your eye and then the two of you would be set off again.

“It’s fine.” Eddie shook his head, taking another measured sip of his drink when the giggles had finished. “Honestly, it’s not the worst conversation I’ve had.”

“What wins that honour?” you asked curiously, spooning more pasta into your mouth.

“Pick one. I was an investigative reporter reporting about people who didn’t want to be reported.”

“Fair,” you agreed. “I don’t think I’ve had a worst conversation to date.”

“Not even the one today with Venom?”

“That was weird.” You jabbed your spoon at him. “Nobody died, nobody was really hurt, nobody was really offended. I was a bit scared but it just turns out he’s a…what’s the word…”

“Doofus?” Eddie supplied, ignoring the pinch on his thigh from the symbiote at even suggesting Venom was anything but the best.

“Something like that,” you nodded. “Like a kid in a candy store, and I’m the candy store.”

**_Now that’s a visual._ **

_I swear to god if your fantasies give me a boner._

**_Then it wouldn’t be just all me then._ **

Eddie sometimes wished Venom would separate from him for just two seconds so he could be the first human to figure out how to strangle a symbiote.

**_Try me bitch._ **

“That’s it,” Eddie muttered.

“Hmm?” you turned to him, scraping the remains of your pasta from the bowl and wondering if you were still hungry enough for the leftover scraps. “Did you say something?”

“Ah, sorry,” Eddie flustered then and you watched as he tried to compose himself. “I’m uh, a compulsive mutterer. I’ve been trying to curb it, so it wouldn’t be so weird but…”

**_Smooth._ **

“You’re friends with Venom. If you were worried about being weird you’ve gone way past. Don’t worry. Everybody mutters to themselves sometimes.” You made to stand and Eddie took the bowl from your hand, walking to the kitchen and leaving you perched on the sofa.

He set the sink to run and you realised he was about to wash the dishes. Again.

“Leave it!” you called. “I’ll get on it later.”

“Just filling it with hot water and soap to let it soak, don’t worry,” Eddie sounded amused. “Not that it would bother me anyway.”

“You’re my guest,” you said, affronted as you tucked your leg further underneath your body, trying to find the angle that wouldn’t give you rampant pins and needles. “My mother would shoot me if she realised I was making a guest wash the dishes.”

“Couldn’t you just catch it? The bullet?”

“That is a common misconception!” You twisted to face him. “Super strength does not mean super invulnerability. Otherwise I’d actually have two properly functioning legs instead of one and a half.”

Eddie stopped the tap and wandered back over, seating himself next to you.

“This is the curious part of me asking but, how does it work? The whole – “ he gestured to you.

“You’ll have to ask a doctor if you want to know how the female body works,” you snipped back at him jokingly and he gave a fake ‘haha’ in return.

You fiddled with the TV remote, flipping channels absentmindedly to think about the question and to also get it off of tedious advertisements.

“It’s not always on otherwise I’d never be able to live a life without breaking other things, people, or myself.”

 _“Yourself?”_ Eddie’s voice pitched in a weird way that your brain managed to parse as actual worry.

“Eddie,” you said slowly, “I’m still mostly human, discounting the mutantism. If I did this – “ you placed your hands in front of you, and crossed one over so you were holding your wrist in a mockery of that morning. “And squeezed, that would be it. I’d lose the hand.”

His hand shot out with such speed you nearly flinched and he grabbed yours, the worry even more intense.

“I’m not going to do it,” you reassured him. “Nobody would win in that scenario.” You let your wrists go limp though, let him see as you pulled your hands apart. He was staring at your fingers, as if wondering what secrets they held.

“Anyway,” you continued, clearing your throat. “I have to consciously think of it. It sort of feels like a switch flipping. But I can’t always control the switch.” You picked up the spoon that Eddie hadn’t taken from you and pressed down on it. The metal was unyielding. Then you actually applied the pressure you were gifted with, and the metal bent.

“For the split second my power is active and impacts something, that part of me _is_ invulnerable, yes, but only to blunt things. I could punch through a wall and not break my fingers but – “

“Punching Venom in the face and cutting your hand would happen because it’s sharp.”

“Exactly.” You snapped your fingers and pointed at him. “One point. Then if I get emotional – any sort of strong emotion, really, then the switch control gets a little…loose.”

“Any particular emotions?”

“Anger. Worry, or rather fear. Mostly those two.” You tried to think of any other scenario, but it just led your thoughts in a depressing direction.

**_Ask her about what happens during sex._ **

_Absolutely not._

“And in a relationship?” Eddie blurted, not sure if the question was from him or Venom now that the thought was in his head.

“Ah.” You swallowed a few times and straightened the spoon in your hands. “Sorry, you haven’t earned enough friendship points to unlock that dialogue tree.” You tried to give him a smile but it felt a little tight.

“Understood.” Eddie held his hands up, as if surrendering. “Sorry for prying.”

“No, I get it. I’m something new and you like to know all the facts.” You didn’t know whether or not you were hoping that eventually the curiosity would fade and Eddie would go back to being your neighbour. A lot of your relationships fizzled away like that. Most people thought you were too secretive, too withdrawn and not worth the time. Maybe now you were given the chance to talk, Eddie would think you were too open, too boisterous, and eventually realise it was worth it more to step away instead.

“It’s not that,” Eddie protested. “Well, not all that. I’d like to get to know you better as a person, not just because you can lift cars and feasibly me.”

“Feasibly?” you asked, unable to help yourself. “You saw me lift a car and don’t think I can lift you?”

**_Like where this is going._ **

_Don’t say I never do anything for you._

“In moments of adrenaline, women have been known to lift cars to save their children – “

“It was my keys, not my _child.”_

“ – and given enough training, anyone could bend a spoon.”

You stared at him, wondering if he was actually serious and then your mind went to wondering how you could do this.

“Today,” you told him, knowing this was probably what he wanted all along. “You’re getting bench pressed. Can you get my duvet from the bedroom and lay it on the floor?”

The grin that crossed Eddie’s face as he stood and shot across the apartment solidified your reckoning. He’d goaded you and won – but honestly, you felt a little giddy. Years, nearly twenty of them, of keeping your secret close to your chest and here you had the one moment to show off to someone who wouldn’t run screaming in the other direction.

And who wasn’t Venom.

As Eddie laid your duvet down on the floor and folded it so you would be somewhat cushioned, you’d noticed he’d even brought the pillows through, which he placed at the end you assumed your head was going to go.

“You need a hand down?” Eddie asked, and you shook your head. Most of the aches were gone now, probably mostly hurt in the first place because of initial impact.

You lay down and got yourself comfortable, stretching your arms above your head and realising you should probably dust the corners of your apartment at some point. There were some gnarly cobwebs.

Flexing your fingers, you closed your eyes and took in several, slow deep breaths. What you had proposed was stupid and you sincerely hoped you didn’t launch Eddie through the ceiling. Holding your palms just above your face, flat towards the ceiling, you looked towards Eddie.

“Ready when you are.”

He looked hesitant now, as if worried about squashing you with his weight.

“Seriously. Just lie down on my hands. If my leg wasn’t fucked I’d squat with you on my shoulders.”

**_Yes please._ **

Eddie exhaled and approached. He had to step over you to get the right angle so the middle of his shoulderblades settled into one palm and his lower back the other. You feel some weight but not enough for someone of Eddie’s size. A glance showed he still had his feet on the ground. Stupidly tall people doubting you.

Exhaling slowly, you extended your arms and felt Eddie flinch, felt the yelp he tried to swallow as you pushed up and he left the floor.

**_Going to think of this later. And you can’t stop me._ **

“What the fuck,” you heard him whisper.

“Were you seriously doubting me?”

“Not at all,” Eddie said cheerfully. “You ripped open an elevator in front of me like it was a tin of sardines. I just wanted to be lifted.”

“You sneaky little shit,” you laughed, and didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty when you tipped your hands to the side and rolled him to the floor next to you.

“Honestly though,” Eddie said as he sat up. “This is amazing. What you can do is amazing.”

If you blushed you were going to rip another hole in your floor and bury yourself in it. You couldn’t remember the last time you were complimented by another _human_ being on anything that wasn’t your work ethic.

“Need a hand up?” Eddie got to his feet in a smooth motion you could only envy. Taking the hand he extended and letting him pull you up, his other hand reached to hold your shoulder and steady you as you finally got to both feet.

“That was kind of exhilarating,” he admitted. “The last time I was picked up was when I was a kid.”

Oh. Oh no that gave you a bad idea.

Despite the twinge in your leg and your mind telling you in no circumstances was this acceptable, you reached forward and snagged your arms around his waist. Your nose came barely to his shoulderblade when you were this close.

“What – “ was all Eddie managed, before you heaved up and he was off the floor, you carrying him like an errant toddler back to the sofa where you dropped him, taking careful measured steps so you didn't trip over anything.

When he looked up at you he looked slightly breathless, cheeks a little bit red.

You mockingly dusted your hands and sat back on the sofa yourself, feeling a little red yourself but also smug.

**_If she picks us up again I can’t guarantee anything._ **

_Why was that so hot._

**_Told you._ **

“Next time,” you said jokingly. “I’ll get you in the fireman carry. Like a sack of potatoes. Or maybe the bridal carry.”

**_That’s it. Move over._ **

“Next time,” Eddie said quickly, in a high reedy voice. “Will have to be another day if that’s cool? I’ve got work this evening.”

“Oh, oh no worries.” You smiled at him. “Thanks for keeping me company this afternoon. And because I don’t know how to contact him except through you, could you thank Venom as well? I’ve been feeling a little cooped up. Sure sign that I work too much.”

“I’ll pass on the message.” Eddie gathered up your bed stuff and you felt a little embarrassed as he took it back to your bedroom for you. “Let me know when you’re up for stuff with your leg and maybe next time I can keep you company somewhere where I’m not eating all your food.”

“Sounds good to me.” You felt warm and fuzzy, like you were coming down from a high. It felt nice. You might actually have a genuine friend. A _friend_. You weren’t sure Venom counted, not yet.

“I’ll see myself out,” Eddie offered. “I’ve still got your key, nearly forgot, but I’ll just slide it under the door when I lock you in, sound cool?”

“That’s fine,” you nodded, glancing towards the TV where the news had rolled on about something or another.

“I’ll catch you later,” Eddie bid farewell and shut the door. You heard it click to locked and the key slid under the door. You didn’t hear Eddie enter his own apartment, heard no other doors, but there was the chance he was just being quiet and considerate.

The TV was showing a hostage situation as it happened live. It took barely two minutes of footage before Venom was swooping in from above like a diving falcon, flinging the hostages into the crowd of police officers and chomping the head off a gunman.

Friends. You might have a friend. You might have _two._

You were old enough that you managed to refrain from grabbing a pillow and screaming into it in excitement.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not featured in this chapter:
> 
> \- Eddie scolding him for eating heads just because he was over excited.  
> \- Venom calling him a pussy (again) for backing out just because Eddie finally realised that yes, strong is hot.  
> \- The whole time they save the hostages it was just domestic bickering  
> \- Anne getting far, *far* too much detail on how much Venom really likes your strength.  
> \- You actually did scream into the pillow because you couldn't help yourself.  
> \- Yes, Venom /did/ reminisce about you lifting them that night. Eddie feels both bad and on board because he doesn't know if its infringing on your privacy to be like that.  
> \- Venom ready to go back after saving hostages for round two of lifting. Eddie convincing him that two visits in one day might be too much. Venom is willing to risk the punch. Eddie is not.  
> \- /DO NOT MAKE AN ALIEN DICK NEXT TIME YOU VISIT VENOM/ Eddie doesn't know how many times he has to say it. Probably far too many.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get some fresh air. It's nice. Then you remembered that feelings were a real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might do a oneshot series. Hands up if you're interested! Will be this reader and many other readers, mutant or not mutant. Hmu if there's something you want to see in particular if you agree; prompts keep ye olde motivation running

“Hullo?” you groggily answered your phone, smacking it almost painfully against your face after snatching it from the side locker.

It was your mother on the other side. Her voice was thick with tears. You went from half asleep to wide awake in nothing flat, scrambling to sit upright.

“Mum? Mum, what’s wrong?”

 _“It’s Jonah,”_ she gasped on the other side of the line, sniffling.

Your mind went a thousand and one places at once at what could have happened to your younger half-brother. You don’t know how quick you could get to Seattle, the soonest flight.

“Is he okay? What happened? Is he okay? Is Danny okay? Are you?” You swung your legs out of the bed, looking for your still half-packed suitcase. Twenty minutes tops and you could be out and on your way.

 _“Everyone’s okay,”_ she promised, but the thick note of her voice said otherwise. _“It’s just…we often asked, you know, if you got your thing from me, or from your father and…looks like it was me.”_

Your brain tried to make sense of the sentence. Then you felt your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“He’s a mutant?”

 _“Yeah,”_ your mum sniffled again and you heard voices in the background. _“Actually, we’ve known for a while. Just didn’t want to worry you but…he has to go to Xavier’s. To that special academy.”_

“Has to, or is someone making him?” The phone was making an alarming creaking noise in your grip, the edges of it biting into your skin. You loosened your hand slightly.

 _“He, um,”_ your mum cleared her throat, as if trying to clear the tears, _“he’s had it for about six months now, maybe a bit longer. He has what the professor that showed up called a local gravitational field. He can control the gravity in a certain length of space around him in all dimensions. It wasn’t quite lifting, but things would get heavier or lighter around him. And then one of those – those X-Men showed up. Last night.”_

“So they’re making him,” you repeated.

_“No. He agreed to go. He finishes this year of school here and then finish his last two and further education at the academy. He keeps saying he’s going to be a superhero.”_

You couldn’t understand why your mum was so upset.

“Are you okay?” you asked quietly.

 _“Just a parent thing, I think,”_ she admitted, _“all the birds are leaving the nest, and I’m too old for any more.”_

You heart had felt like it was ready to flee your chest. Now it was calming down. Just your mother being her emotional self.

“You could always get a dog,” you suggested lightly. “And I’m not that far away, not really.”

 _“You never visit.”_ She sounded petulant, but a little understanding.

“You know why,” you replied quietly, falling back against the pillows again. “Too many bad memories. Come visit me! I’ve got too many vacation days and I can see Jonah one last time before he becomes a famous superhero.”

Your mum gave a watery laugh.

 _“Thank you,”_ she finally said, and it sounded like she was blowing her nose. _“It just felt like when you ran away all over again. I know you can look after yourself but Jonah is…he’s still just a boy.”_

“If I’m any indicator, halfway across the country or not, he’ll do fine,” you told her. “And if the school reached out, then you know it’s what’s best for him.”

 _“They never came for you,”_ petulance again, with a little bit of bitterness.

“I can choose when to lift things,” you told her. “Jonah might accidentally crush things by sneezing. Gravity control isn’t something to wag a finger at.”

 _“I suppose.”_ A sigh. _“I’ll let you go. It’s time to get Jonah set up for school and remind him that he shouldn’t tell anyone about this upcoming transfer.”_

“Bye,” you bid her. “Love you.”

 _“I love you too.”_ Her voice was warm as she hung up and you pulled your phone away from your face to look at the time. The stress of the beginning of the conversation had put a hairline crack in the screen, the shape slightly bent from the squeeze of your grip.

It was barely a little after seven in the morning.

You were still tired but now you full of nervous energy, so you gathered up some fresh clothes and after a moment’s hesitation, included a bra. Eddie had brought you some groceries but only some bare essentials, and you could afford to fill your kitchen a little more.

Then you decided you probably should go for a shower since you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had one and your hair could only stand to stay in a ponytail for so many days.

When you stepped into the bathroom you dumped your clean clothes on top of the closed toilet and looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked tired, but no worse for wear really. As you reached out for the shower cord, you were reminded of the gauze on your right hand.

Pulling the cord and letting the shower run to warm up, all the pipes groaning and creaking, you peeled the bandages off. Well. You probably needed to get _that_ checked out. You had a collection of small scratches along your index finger that had scabbed nicely.

The worst had been the one that started just above the second knuckle of your middle finger, dragged its way through the gap of your middle and ring fingers before ending nearly in the centre of the back of your hand. Nearly three inches long, but not too wide or deep. Now, exposed to the air, it was scabby like the rest, but the skin around it was red, puffy and, as you stretched your fingers fully, slightly tight.

As you’d swung your fist into Venom’s face it had been the knuckle to hit his teeth first, the rest of the fingers just collateral. The human mouth was full of bacteria. God knows what was in his.

Best add the pharmacy to the list of places you visited that morning.

The shower was a quick affair, and your hand started to sting after the application of shampoo, conditioner and then soap. Scrubbing your hands through your hair to lather it properly had split some of the larger ones, but the largest stayed stubbornly closed.

When you climbed out and wrapped up into a towel, you gathered your old shirt you’d slept in and clenched it around your fist to cover your knuckles to staunch the bleeding since you weren’t going to bother wrapping them back up again.

It probably wasn’t too hygienic, but you were already past some sort of point, right?

You thought about breakfast when you were back in your bedroom, sat in the towel as you blow-dried your hair. Then you decided to leave it, would get all your groceries, maybe grab something at Sybil's because you really were a slut for her coffee and pastries.

It was at the point, nearly eight now, that you were locking your apartment and the stairwell door opened, Eddie stumbling through. You paused in your test of the handle and he paused in the doorway. He looked, lacking a word for it, like shit.

His jacket was open, and his shirt was stuck to him with sweat. But besides the fact he must have been absolutely haggard he politely asked. “Where you off? Need a hand?”

“Just shopping. Are you okay?” You tucked your keys into your purse, shifting your weight as you noticed his eyes drop down to your legs – which you’d covered with tights. No need for anyone to see the purpling mess that was your knee.

“Just finished work. Busy night.” He offered a smile. Despite looking like shit he was certainly in a good mood.

“Maybe you should get some sleep?” you asked.

“Nah, I can’t get to sleep straight after a shift.” He shrugged a shoulder, letting the stairwell door drop shut behind him as he stepped closer. “And I could do with getting some stuff myself.”

You looked him up and down. He certainly didn’t look tired. Just messy.

“Did you want to maybe um…get some fresh clothes on?” you sincerely hoped you hadn’t sounded rude. This close it looked like he had speckles of blood on his shirt collar. You remembered he told you he did odd jobs – like security. If it was blood it wasn’t his.

Eddie looked down at himself, seeming surprised at his state of being.

“Oh. Oh yeah, probably should. Want to wait inside?”

You hiked your bag up higher on your shoulder, fingers throbbing.

“Sure.”

Eddie stepped by you and then sort of stopped. From his profile you saw his nostrils flare, as if he could smell something – maybe himself? And then when he was opening the apartment, he asked, almost nonchalantly but in a way that made you feel cross-examined, “You okay? You’re a little pale.”

You’d come out of the shower rosy cheeked and scrubbed clean, but no doubt the resultant nervous energy and tiredness came with its awful perks.

“Just not used to being up this early.” You shrugged. “I’ll be popping to the pharmacy too, after shopping.”

Eddie stepped aside to let you in. His apartment had barely changed from the other day you’d been in it. You wondered if he was also the type to spend hardly any time in his apartment unless forced.

The jacket, not the one he normally wore you’d noticed, was lobbed into a far corner. You took a seat on the sofa, digging out your phone, and didn’t realise Eddie had rounded the end of the sofa to face you until you caught him out of the corner of you eye.

He was stood there, shirtless and fresh shirt in hand, frowning down at you.

You looked back down at your phone, trying not to feel too flustered.

“You not feeling well?”

In answer, you flourished your hand at him.

“The antiseptic wipes and cream in my kit were probably out of date,” you mumbled. “So, I thought I’d get it checked out real quick.”

His skin was warm when he took hold of your hand, thumb probing gently around the inflamed skin. When you risked a glance up, trying to ignore the skin on display, he was frowning slightly.

“Looks like an infection,” Eddie muttered.

“Wouldn’t surprise me. Venom’s mouth probably isn’t the cleanest place. I can’t imagine he’s ever seen a toothbrush.”

Eddie lurched and you guessed he’d probably forgotten that Venom’s mouth was the place you’d gotten the wounds from in the first place.

“True,” he agreed and let go of your hand to cross the apartment towards his bedroom. When he was done doing whatever he had done in there he was dressed and quickly popped into the bathroom.

Not ten minutes later he was next to you, smelling minty fresh like he’d brushed his teeth, the faint hint of deodorant wafting towards you.

“Ready to go?” he offered a hand, but you proudly showed him how you could get to your feet by yourself without even a stagger. Eddie gave you a polite clap in congratulations as you walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway.

“Elevator’s still out of commission unfortunately,” he told you cheerfully after the door was locked, but the way he looked at you from the corner of his eye had you shoving him gently. He mock staggered a few feet away towards the stairwell.

“It’s fine, I could do with the cardio. I’ve missed out this week. I like having the ability to physically run away from my problems.”

Eddie barked out a laugh, as if he’d tried to keep it contained and it had slipped free regardless.

“And besides, where do you think I got these guns?” You flexed your arm not held down by your purse. Eddie’s arm was probably twice the thickness, but he mock fluttered a hand by his face as if pretending to cool down.

“You’ll have to show me your rigorous work out sometimes. Maybe I can achieve what you can.”

“I don’t know. Drop your keys under a car one day and see if the adrenaline kicks in. But, maybe start on the spoon first.”

Eddie laughed again.

“I’m not going to let that go,” you added. “You, using your sneaky underhanded ways all because you wanted to get heave-ho’d by little old me.”

“You can’t say it wasn’t fun,” Eddie replied. You were near the fifth floor by this point.

And, he was right. You realised it with a little lurch in your chest. This was the most fun you’d had in months, years, all because he’d happened to see you pick up a car because you couldn’t be bothered to get down on your hands and knees.

“It is,” you said quietly. “It was fun.”

Eddie reached a hand out and squeezed your shoulder, no doubt hearing the tone to your voice.

“It doesn’t have to be the last time,” Eddie said carefully. “Not the lifting me, you don’t have to do that again. But I’m sure you can find other ways to let yourself relax. I’ll rent myself to you for free for security and lookout.”

“I’ve always wanted to know the heaviest thing I can lift,” you mused at the next turn on the stair case.

“The car wasn’t heavy?”

“Not really? It just sort of…well, it’s what I imagine picking up a book is like. Just need to move it out the way, you know?”

**_A book, Eddie. Lifting a car is like lifting a book._ **

“Jesus,” Eddie muttered, and for a fleeting, frightening moment, you wondered if that was the point he’d decide to stop dealing with you. Maybe you were that frightening.

“Yeah.” You bit your lip, lifting your purse higher. You squeezed your other hand gently into a fist, letting the sting of your knuckles ground you.

“So, the average car is around two tons of weight,” Eddie said suddenly. “Which means we gotta figure out the scientific method of this. Do we go up by a hundred kilos at a time? Two hundred? Five hundred? A ton each time?”

“It’s finding something heavy and inconspicuous,” you joked. “I’m not picking anything up somewhere that someone other than you can see.”

“Oh, no, I get that.” Eddie dug out his phone, typing manically on the screen. You briefly saw ‘Google’ pop up before he was searching for something. “I can get you onto the docks – plenty of places where there isn’t security, and filled containers are roughly…” his thumbs tapped away. “Twenty feet are around twenty-five tons and up. Too big of a leap?”

“You can get me onto the _docks?”_

“Well, not legally but…” Eddie grinned at you. “Sounds like fun, right?”

“You just get off on watching me pick heavy things up, don’t you?” you responded and watched in wonder as Eddie missed a step and stumbled to gather his balance before he went careening into the wall. You tried not to think too deeply into the reaction.

“I – “ he stammered.

“It’s cool. It’s a new thing you’re curious about, remember? So long as you don’t call my hands pretty and allude to the fact I can snap you in half with them, we’ll be fine.”

Eddie laughed.

“Don’t worry. I’m bad. I’m not _that_ bad.”

**_I am._ **

_We know you are bud._

* * *

 

You decided the pharmacy first was a good idea – no lugging perishables around with you then. The pharmacist tutted and hummed at the state of your hand before giving you a few options to try with the explicit instruction to visit the doctor or emergency room if the inflammation started to track up your arm.

You were just leaving the pharmacy when Eddie casually noted, “She thought you were abusing me.”

You missed a step and felt his hand catch your elbow to steady you.

“Bruised and bloodied knuckles are common injuries from punching walls or other stuff. While you were buying the spray she took me to the side and asked if I was okay.” Eddie seemed amused. It just made you feel a little nauseous – it was either the thought of hurting who had turned out to be such a wonderful person, or hunger.

“I wouldn’t – “

“Oh, I know. Should have seen her face when I told her they were defensive wounds. Absolute horror. Tried to backtrack.”

The nausea was still there. Maybe it was hunger after all. You’d known Eddie for a handful of days but already knew he didn’t expect the worst from you.

“Can we go to Sybil’s first?” you asked. “Haven’t had a coffee today, and I can buy you some of that cake you like as thanks for yesterday.”

“You already gave me lunch.”

“Without dessert,” you mocked a gasp. “Again, my mother would shoot me for my manners. Just let me do something nice for you for once goddamnit.”

“Feeding me is the nicest thing you can do, don’t worry.”

**_Objection. Showing off is the nicest thing she can do for us._ **

“Then let me feed you cake,” you said triumphantly and watched as his face twisted and he tried to dig himself out of the hole he’d put himself in. Again, it felt like you were having fun. It was _nice._

“Fuck,” Eddie said with something akin to frustrated enthusiasm. His hand was still loose on your elbow and, almost mockingly, you jutted your arm out an angle. Eddie immediately took your challenge, scooping his hand into the crook of your elbow like you were a gentleman and he the fair lady. You patted his hand where it rested consolingly.

“You did this to yourself, associating with me,” you told him.

It set your heart aflutter when he simply smiled down at you and said, “I know.”

Oh. Oh no.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eddie the slightly sweaty boy returns!
> 
> Not Featured:
> 
> \- Venom listing off things for you to lift to Eddie. Himself is on the list more than three times.  
> \- Eddie took exactly seven and a half minutes brushing his teeth, not that you were timing, because Venom was shrieking at him for it. Venom doesn't seem to understand that he has to brush his own teeth. Eddie's teeth are not his.  
> \- Internal shrieking when you mention Eddie liking the strength. A contained freakout of epic proportions. Venom stands by his words.  
> \- Eddie has so many abs you wanted to cry when he walked around his apartment half naked like that how daRE  
> \- Jonah absolutely texts you approximately thirty four times that afternoon bragging about how he gets to be an X-Man. You are now plotting how to take a selfie with Venom to send back in retaliation obviously with the tag #new bestie  
> \- It wasn't just Eddie telling that pharmacist what for. Venom happens to kind of /like/ the punching thank you very much.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coffee date number two. Not that you were thinking of dates. Or how good at flirting Eddie was goddamnit.

Sybil’s was crowded, not uncommon for nearing midday and everyone stopping in for lunch. Eddie found you a table in the corner and graciously let you take the side that let you keep your back to a wall. All things considered, he was very considerate of your paranoia.

“Do you want anything to drink,” you asked, rummaging into your bag and eyeing up the line. “Maybe not coffee if you’re planning on going to bed after this.”

You dug out your purse, debating card or cash. Card it was. You liked having change and bills keeping your purse full and snug. You set your bag to the side and stood, purse in hand.

“I’ll have a coffee anyway – but if I remember rightly, you only promised cake, not coffee.” Eddie stood, as if to dig his wallet out from his back pocket. You reached forward, placed your hand on his shoulder, and pushed him back down. The look on his face as his knees gave way under the weight was gratifying. He folded like a stack of cards and it made you giddy.

“How do you take your coffee?” you asked cheerfully, feeling the muscle under his shoulder tense as he tried to push back against the pressure.

“Um,” he swallowed a few times and you watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed several times. “Black, but bring over plenty of sugar and milk. Please.” It bobbed again. You felt inordinately pleased as you let go of his shoulder and all but flounced off.

“Oh my god,” Eddie muttered under his breath as you approached the queue, clenching his hands into fists down onto his knees and staring at his lap, glad for the corner booth he’d managed to get.

 ** _Need help?_** Something silky slithered along his thigh and Eddie had never moved so fast in slapping his leg, feeling the squirm of the symbiote underneath, indignant.

 _We’re in public,_ he hissed mentally, trying to emphasise the panic as best as he could.

**_No one would know._ **

_Everyone would know! It’s not exactly discrete to jack off in public!_

The mental equivalent of a huff met him, but the presence on his thigh faded away, slinking back under skin. It did not help the fact that his dick was still very much at attention. At this point Eddie didn’t know if the attraction to strength was him, or Venom, but it was going to get awkward, fast.

 ** _Can help anyway,_** the symbiote grumbled, and this time when Eddie felt it’s slithering presence it was like it was coiling underneath his skull and sinking into his brain. The feeling of cold water down his spine washed over him and the arousal was thankfully gone.

 _Thanks_ , he sighed, leaning into his seat and scrubbing a hand over his face. The friendship still felt tentative, and he was wary of scaring you off if he came across too strong. For now, it would work out if Venom was the one with the obvious power kink and not him. And if you figured out Eddie and Venom were one and the same well. Eddie would cross that bridge when they came to it.

Meanwhile, you had just reached the counter, completely unaware of the near catastrophic events that had occurred behind you. You were trying to remember what size cup Eddie had had the previous time you’d had coffee together. Medium seemed the best bet.

When you stepped up to order, Jordan leaned forward, grin crossing her face.

“So,” she said, the register already displaying numbers – she’d punched in your coffee before you’d even spoke. “You and him, huh?” she looked meaningfully over your shoulder and you glanced back at Eddie, who was hunched over, staring at his lap. He looked tired. Maybe coffee wasn’t the best idea. Cake was probably even worse.

“He’s my neighbour,” you automatically replied and watched as disappointment crossed Jordan’s face, the opportunity to gossip lost to the mundane. You rattled off your coffee order which she just nodded to, not even moving. Then you added on Eddie’s, to which she tapped at the screen, and after looking into the display cabinet, you asked, “Is that all the cake you have ready for the day?”

“Nah, we got some left out at the back. Always do.”

“Cool.” You fished your card out of your purse. “Can I get all of it? And a box for leftovers after, just in case.” No matter how much he loved cake, you didn’t imagine Eddie could eat a whole one in one setting with or without your help.

Jordan’s fingers faltered at the register, but she dutifully tapped it through. The total was gross, but nothing you couldn’t handle and when you brandished your card, Jordan started setting up the payment.

You’d just gone to put your card into the machine when Jordan asked, obviously hunting for the gossip she so desperately needed, “So you and him are banging then?”

Your card hit the machine with force and snapped. Both of you stared at the plastic. Jordan started to grin, obviously taking your flinch as agreement.

“No – “ you began, flustered, digging out a handful of bills instead. Just to be petty, you managed to find exact change in coins as well as notes, silently and mentally apologising to the customers behind you.

“Why else would you be here with him for coffee twice in one week, huh, huh? ‘Neighbour’?” Jordan was still smiling as she accepted the money, one of the baristas behind her who had started on the drinks obviously eavesdropping.

“He’s helping me in a hard time,” you said, voice shrill.

“A ‘hard time’ huh?” Jordan continued. You were going to strangle her. Honestly, you were.

“Look, Eddie’s a nice guy. He doesn’t need you talking like this about him behind his back,” you said, grasping to get the conversation back onto something serious and out of the gutter. “He helped me when I nearly got mugged the other day. He’s just being a friend.”

Jordan’s smug face faded away almost immediately.

“Shit,” she said, stepping to the side to allow a co-worker to the till so she could work on your order herself and continue the conversation. “You okay?”

“It was a bit of a rush,” you admitted. “On a scale of one to unbelievable, this will probably be a solid seventeen, but Venom – the big thing going ‘round eating people – ate the muggers and Eddie ran out after I got home and grabbed my bag, helped with the first aid.”

“This was by the bank, wasn’t it,” Jordan replied, connecting the dots. “I remember, Venom came flying out of the connecting alleyway and caused like, three collisions, customers were talking about it all day. He didn’t hurt you or anything?”

“No, no, he was more concerned about the guy that had a knife,” you replied, keeping the truth as glossed over as you could. “I guess one of them ran into the street and he went after them like a dog after a bone. I didn’t think, I just ran.”

“Jesus,” Jordan dragged the first syllable out as she piled your drinks carefully onto one of the larger trays, careful not to budge the whole cake that was already set there on its plate. Folded underneath the plate was the takeaway box, one that could be folded back into a box shape when needed. Next to it were two smaller plates to separate the slices to, and a fork.

“Yeah so, maybe give him some slack? I know _I’ll_ never get any because you control my caffeine intake, but Eddie’s honestly a great guy.”

“Sounds like it,” Jordan agreed. “I wouldn’t go running back into a street knowing Venom was there just for someone’s purse. And not joking this time, if someone does that well…sounds like he could seriously like you.”

You couldn’t tell Jordan that Eddie and Venom were actually some sort of bosom buddies. It would be a breach of trust. So you just shrugged and gathered up your tray, the broken pieces of your card settled sadly into the corner of it.

“Thanks Jordan.”

“Catch you later,” she called after you before returning to the machines and customer service.

You walked back to the table, setting the tray down gently.

“The barista still think we’re sleeping together?” Eddie asked curiously as he took in the state of your card. You stayed stood, frozen, hands still on the tray and wondered how he’d heard the conversation.

“She asked the other day too,” Eddie continued, “when we came in because apparently in all your years of visiting I’m the only other person you’ve brought here even though it was technically me bringing you here.”

You laughed, sitting down.

“Jordan is nosy and lives vicariously through others.”

“Oh, I feel that,” Eddie muttered, mostly to himself and it made you laugh again, reaching for the sugar packets you’d snatched on your way back.

“She’s still young,” you replied, emptying sugar into your coffee.

“Sure is,” Eddie agreed. “But honestly, what the fuck is this.”

He was stirring milk into his coffee, but his attention was on the cake.

“You seemed to like it. And I thought maybe I’d try some today and see if it’s to my liking. Ah, fuck, I only grabbed one fork.” You made to stand, but Eddie beat you to it.

“I got it,” he said, and crossed the room towards the counter. You saw Jordan nearly light up in anticipation at trying to dig out even _more_ gossip despite what you’d already told her.

While waiting, you took up the fork and carefully used it and your fingers to separate one slice onto a plate. Eddie returned while you licking the frosting from your fingers and you quickly gathered up a napkin so you would seem less like an animal.

_I can tell you’re thinking of something. Don’t._

**_Spoilsport._ **

“Jordan have anything else left to say?” you wondered, shaving off a piece of cake carefully with the fork and trying it. Maybe a bit rich for your tastes, especially considering you hadn’t had breakfast. You’d have this slice and Eddie could take home the rest.

“Oh, she tried,” Eddie was emptying even more milk into his coffee. He should have asked for a latte if he was going to be like that – unless he was one of the sorts of people who liked to control portion size or something.

But then he wouldn’t go around eating cake.

You decided it was none of your business.

“Hopefully she doesn’t spread any nonsense. She doesn’t seem the type to, but I don’t know where to hide a body if I had to.”

Eddie paused. You looked at him and he looked at you. Almost in unison, you both said, “Venom.”

You giggled even as Eddie smiled and finished stirring his drink, setting his spoon to the side. He hadn’t added any sugar despite asking for it. Maybe the amount of cake made up for it.

For good measure, you added another sugar sachet to your drink and took a tentative sip. It burned the roof of your mouth and most of your tongue but tasted perfect. Awesome.

“Had an accident?” Eddie asked, pointing his fork at your card. While you’d perfected your drink he’d helped himself to a piece of cake. He’d already somehow eaten a sizeable chunk of it. You’d always imagined a man his size wouldn’t be able to make such subtle and discrete movements.

“Ah, just Jordan being herself,” you muttered, thinking of the headache it would be to be without a card for a few days as you sorted out getting a new one. “I went to put the card in. She asked if we were banging. So eloquent.”

Eddie snorted hard, bringing his drink up to hide his smile. You would have laughed too, but the thought of getting a new card – of going to the bank – had made you slightly nauseous all of a sudden.

You’d have it mailed. It would take longer, but you’d rather that than step into the bank again any time soon.

“Hey, you okay?” Eddie asked softly, when he realised your attention had drifted.

“What? Oh, sorry.” You tried another bite of the cake and then set the fork down. “Just thinking of how to get a new card without actually going to the bank.”

Your palms felt sweaty. Despite knowing now that Venom had meant no harm, remembering the look on neck breather’s face and the feel of a gun in your spine made you feel a little light headed.

It took a few seconds, but the pieces clicked into place on Eddie’s face.

“I can come with you,” he offered. “I’m sure Venom would offer, but I’m not sure he’s allowed into public spaces so easily.”

“Oh no it’s fine. I’ll phone up and get one through the mail. Good job I have a, uh, substantial amount of cash.” Your savings were safely hidden away in your apartment and still intact. You were suddenly reminded of the hole in your floor.

The activities you had for the day were rising. You wondered if the cash you had on you was enough for groceries now your card was fucked, or if you’d have to go home for physical money.

You felt tired now, sighing into the lip of your cup as you brought it up for a slightly less scalding sip.

“That’s not a happy sound,” Eddie noted. “Anything I can help with?”

“No, you’ve done enough, really. Life has just seemed to get a tad harder now that I haven’t got a card. It’s too easy to use.”

“If you’re worried about your groceries, we can use my card. You can just transfer the difference, right?”

“That is an exceptional amount of trust you’re putting into me.”

Eddie snorted. “For what, thirty bucks worth of food? If you decided to bail after I paid for your food, I know where you live. And the only huge loss would be your company.”

Ah, shit, there went your heart again, leaping up into your throat like a puppy eager for a treat. Damnit. Damn him. Damn yourself. Why did he have to be so unintentionally suave.

**_Her pulse jumped._ **

_Probably embarrassed her. It happens._

“I bet you say that to all the ladies,” you murmured, keeping your eyes low and focused on the coffee on your hands so he couldn’t see how flustered you were.

“Only the ones that can lift me,” Eddie replied easily and goddamnit, there went your heart again.

“Haven’t got much variety then, have you?” you wished you could shut your mouth, this was dangerously close to flirting.

“Don’t think I need it.”

It was going to look like a retreat and you knew it. But you set you coffee down and stood, grasping at your bag as you quickly said, “I’m going to pop to the bathroom.”

Eddie just smiled as you scuttled away. Across the room Jordan was giving you a thumbs up, no doubt seeing your red face. You decided it was discrete enough for you to flip her the bird.

 ** _She’s sick,_** the symbiote complained, coiling around Eddie’s wrist and wrapping his arm up to the elbow, squeezing gently.

 _No,_ Eddie couldn’t help but sound a little giddy, _like I said, she’s embarrassed._

**_Being embarrassed doesn’t make you go to the bathroom like_ I’m _chasing you._**

_She’s trying to flirt. Probably didn’t expect us to give back as good as we got._

There was silence as Venom parsed Eddie’s words, a shuffle through memories of past negotiations with other women and men alike in his years that lead to dating and other activities hidden in the confines of sheets and warmth.

 ** _This is a date._** Venom sounded triumphant at figuring it out. **_A step in the human mating process. She is flustered because she likes us._**

_Maybe. Don’t get your hopes up._

Venom just preened, squeezing Eddie’s arm gently again, slipping down to finagle its way between Eddie’s fingers in the dark safety of the booth.

 _Baby steps,_ Eddie added, and brought up his free hand to take another bite of cake.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, let me know if I'm going too slow for your tastes. I've managed to cram less than like, two hours worth of in story time into roughly 2700 words. 
> 
> No new features today, sorry! Unless you count:
> 
> \- You all flustered in the bathroom and dropping your bag twice while splashing your face.  
> \- Eddie consuming two more pieces of cake in the time it takes for you to get out of the bathroom  
> \- Venom was actually lowkey sulking he didn't get any D. Eddie just didn't want to get Pavlov'd into having a boner A) everytime you manhandled him and B) whenever he went to Sybil's for coffee  
> \- Jordan telling all of her coworkers that if you didn't 'tap that' she would. Thanks to Venom Eddie can hear this. It's all very awkward  
> \- Eddie explaining to Venom why, despite his past experiences, you rushing off to the bathroom was not an invitation to sex. It is day time. It is a cafe. It is neither night or in a sleazy bar or club. You both don't know each other that well and know each other too much. Yes, that's a thing. Venom, don't complain if you don't understand human relationships.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And just as it tended to do, life went to shit.

You’d managed to get home without thinking _too_ hard on the fact you and Eddie had been flirting. Sitting back down with your bag – despite the huge urge to just flee, you had coffee left to finish – he’d simply picked up a conversation on what you were planning to do for the rest of the day.

And now, here you were, sticking food into the fridge, tins and packaged stuff into cupboards and still missing the fact you weren’t technically allowed to work.

Shutting the cupboard, you sighed and padded over to the sofa, tight covered feet sliding over the floor. Sitting down, you looked at the blank space that once held your table, and then dragged over the laptop, easing it open and waiting for it to boot up.

In the mean-time, you fished out your phone, debating whether to first call the landlord about the hole in your floor, or the bank about the new card. Landlord first. You never knew when or if Lindley would pick up, and you could always try again later when the card was sorted out.

The call went straight into answerphone but you didn’t feel like a leaving a message, so you dialled for the bank, pressed number ‘two, to talk to an associate’ when prompted, and left your phone on speaker as you trawled through the internet for a new table. Your card was in two pieces, not mangled. You could still use the numbers on it up until the bank cancelled it in favour for a new one.

The tinny music cut off and you were greeted with a bored sounding voice. After outlining the problem and being put on hold at least two more times, you were eventually told your new card would arrive in seven to ten business days, and the old one would be cancelled immediately.

It was fine. You didn’t absolutely need that coffee table yet. You could wait.

Then, you text Eddie.

 **(xxx):** _Can I have your bank details?_

 **(Eddie Brock):** _thought scams were more clever than this_

 **(xxx):** _Let me pay you back before I break down your door and demand this in person._

 **(Eddie Brock):** _is that a threat or a promise_

But regardless, the following text was a string of numbers, and you opened your handy-dandy banking app, going through the steps that let you pay Eddie back the twenty-seven dollars and thirty-two cents you owed him. Except you made it a nice round thirty because it sat better with you.

Then, because you really wanted to know if you’d missed anything significant, you called your workplace.

When the other side picked up, you automatically assumed it was the normal receptionist.

“Hey, it’s me,” you greeted. “Is Mark about today?”

 _“Hey me,”_ a warm and familiar voice greeted and your insides did something awful. They dropped and heaved. Before you could dwell on it, the person continued, _“Transferring you now.”_

Where was Maddie? The normal receptionist, secretary, whatever her job title was you weren’t sure, but she was a force of nature and deserved the fear and awe she inspired in the other members of the office floor.

 _“Can’t keep you away, can we?”_ Mark’s voice was filled with warmth and humour.

“Who’s the new guy on the phones?” you blurted out, unable to help yourself. You were worried if you didn’t speak then you would think too hard, forget how to breathe and function.

 _“Oh, we decided to hire a temp, part time work so Maddie can get more than one day off a week and so we don’t have to put it in the hat who’s going to work the desk when she’s gone,”_ Mark easily answered. _“He started yesterday. Aiden Griffiths. Great guy, was just looking for some easy short hours and had the credentials so we hired him. Was there anything you needed or is this an attempt to wheedle work out of me?”_

Your heart was doing the bad kind of acrobatics in your chest. The very bad kind. You didn’t realise the call had disconnected because the phone was only so many pieces of plastic and metal in your hand until the blood dripped down to your wrist.

You’d barely made it to the sink before you vomited, dropping the mangled broken mess from your hand onto the counter.

Aiden wouldn’t have dropped in on you out of the blue like this. He was far too kind, kinder and more thoughtful than the you who had run from your troubles instead of facing them. You knew he wanted to reconcile. You could only remember the look on his face as he struggled to breathe through a lungful of blood and bone.

You rushed across the apartment, nearly ripping the door from the hinges as you tore it open, slamming it shut so hard behind you it sounded like a bomb had gone off, the entire adjoining wall rattling.

Several apartments made noise at that, but you were on a mission, dripping blood all along the way as you jogged towards the stairwell, tights sliding all over the floor. The stairwell door was freed from a hinge as you yanked it open, left slightly bent, and you were down by a floor when a hand landed on your shoulder.

You whipped around so violently, swinging out thoughtlessly and met Eddie’s eyes at the same time your arm struck him across the chest and sent him into a wall with all the force of your panic.

You looked at him but all you could see was the pale, bloodied face of Aiden staring back at you. Eddie’s body had left a dent in the wall, bits of the brick crumbling, but he still managed to step forward, hands held up placatingly.

The stairwell was too tight and enclosed and you couldn’t breathe.

Something in the back of your mind was telling that surely, _surely_ Eddie couldn’t be okay. There was nearly a hole in the wall. The last person you’d hit that hard – well, you didn’t know the damage because Venom had eaten the evidence. You were more concerned that you hadn’t checked your mail because Aiden, _Aiden_ he wouldn’t have dropped in on you, not like this.

Eddie was talking, and you squeezed your bloodied hand into a fist, felt your fingers creak, your nails dig in and in and in. He stepped forward, hand out again.

“..okay?” you heard over the sound of the blood rushing. You knew you were hyperventilating, that this was a panic like before but at the same time not, something deeper and worse. This one had caused a pain in your chest like you hadn’t encountered but you were still breathing, quick and shallow through your mouth.

You must have looked like a wild thing. Eddie didn’t look pained, just concerned.

“I need – “ you managed to gasp out, before you were twisting away from him and continuing your mad flight down the stairs. You might have missed a few along the way but never fell, taking each tight corner fast and close because you had to get to your mailbox and the open space of the lobby at the same time.

The lobby door banged open under your not so light touch but remained connected and you beelined across the room. You’d forgotten the key to the box, but with your back to the camera, you dug the edges of your bloody fingers in the mailbox and ripped it open, leaving it on the hinge.

As if mocking you, on the top was a letter written in familiar handwriting.

“Hey.” Your voice sounded faraway to your ears, but Eddie was still there and snapped to attention. “Can I borrow your phone?”

He handed it over, unlocked, wordlessly. You typed in a number from memory.

 _“Hi, this is Jennifer?”_ your mother’s slightly wary voice answered. She no doubt didn’t recognise the number but you knew she wasn’t one to ignore a phonecall. It was how she’d not known about your father’s accident until it was time to identify the body.

“Did you tell him where I lived?” you asked her, whole body trembling. “Where I _worked?”_

 _“Did you get a new phone?”_ she asked warmly, as if ignoring what must have been pure vitriol in your voice.

“Did you?!” your voice raised, nearly a shout. Your fingers were squeezing and a distant part of you told you this was a phone you could not break; it wasn’t yours.

 _“I don’t understand what the problem is,”_ she sounded petulant. Mother’s knew best, that was what she thought. _“Aiden still cares for you and you must be lonely out there.”_

“You can’t decide that for me!” you were shouting now, heard her intake of breath as the volume startled her. “I made my decisions on my own because of how they impacted _me!_ If I wanted your opinion I would have asked for it!”

_“Honey – “_

“Don’t you fucking dare!” the crying had started now, heaving breaths gasped into you. “What makes you think I want to look into the face of my own failure? I nearly _killed_ him and now you expect me to look him in the eye every day for the rest of my fucking life?!”

Not that you would. You’d find a different job. Another place to live. Another city, another state, another _country._

 _“It’s not like that,”_ your mother sounded dismissive, but you could hear the doubt in her voice.

“Just because Jonah is going to be out from under your thumb, doesn’t mean I have to go back under it,” you hissed. “I tried to phone my goddamn workplace and he answered. Thanks to _you._ I’m getting a new phone; you won’t be getting the number. Not until I can trust you again.”

You hung up, ignoring as the familiar number immediately started to buzz against the screen afterwards. There was blood all over the sleek black design of the phone that you realised, with lethargy, was not yours.

The fight was out of you, your shoulders sinking, your whole body sagging.

“Did you stick your hand into a blender, or what?” Eddie’s words were meant to be humorous, but the tone was too close to worry for it to work. You wiped the phone as best you could on your dress, no doubt ruining it, before you handed it over. Your fingers were white and shaking. No doubt the rest of you was too.

“Are you okay?” you asked reflexively, remembering you’d thrown him into a wall hard enough for there to be visible damage and audible noise.

“Better than you, I’m sure.” When your fingers brushed and the phone was in his hand, his other reached to gently grab your wrist. He prompted you to turn your hand over, showing the mess of your palm to the world.

“You might need stitches,” he said softly, keeping your wrist in a loose grip. “But if you don’t want to, we can get it cleaned up. I’m sure my first-aid kit is more up to date than yours.”

This was a man you’d known less than a week and he was more considerate than your own flesh and blood. The tears were welling again, and before you could help yourself you were sobbing.

Eddie let go of your hand, but his arm swept around your shoulders and he reeled you in until your face was squashed into his shoulder and his body was a warm weight around yours.

“She knew,” you sobbed into his shoulder. “She _knew_ that I couldn’t see him again, not until I was ready, if I was ready. She _knew.”_ Your hands gripped uselessly at his sides, twisted in his jacket. The right one hurt but less than the sting of betrayal.

Eddie stayed silent, but kept one large hand cradled at the back of your skull, the other around your back to keep you steady, hand rubbing a gentle rhythm back and forth. He was swaying slightly, and you wondered faintly if he’d ever had to calm or be supportive for someone like this before.

“I met him in college.” The words wanted to come out and you weren’t going to stop them. You turned your head, cheek pressed into his shoulder instead. “And three years of dating later, I put him into a coma.”

Eddie’s hand scraped gently through your hair a few times, combing out some tangles made by your frantic run down the stairs. He kept his quiet though, up until the point he realised that was all you had to say of it.

“Come on,” he said softly, stepping away. You missed the comfort almost immediately, but he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tucked you safe and small into his side as he led you back to the stairwell. He was even thoughtful enough to grab your mail and wedge the letterbox shut, stuffing the papers into his jacket pocket.

You kept a hand twisted in his jacket as you both silently ascended the stairs. It was awkward given the width of the hallways but Eddie didn’t seem to mind being squashed together and for the time being, neither did you.

As you passed your apartment you noticed a crack in the doorframe. You’d chosen to ignore the existence of the stairwell door, ashamed of the damage done.

“So, was it a blender?” Eddie asked as he set you down on his sofa. You reluctantly uncurled your hand from his jacket.

“I didn’t get to lock my apartment,” you remembered dully, and Eddie smiled at you. “I’ll get on it. Where are your keys?”

“In the kitchen.” Along with the remains of your phone, half a sink of vomit, and the rest of your dignity.

Eddie was back what must have been less than a minute later, but there were tight lines in his face where they had once been attempts at humour. He put your keys down on the table and wordlessly made his way to the bathroom.

He dropped the kit on the table and then grabbed a towel and a bowl of warm water.

Sitting down so close your thighs touched, he gently grabbed your wrist again. You felt loose, disconnected. You let him do what he wanted, as he rotated your hand palm up again and dipped the towel into the warm water, using it to dab away the blood from your palm.

Despite the sting, the close, quiet attention was nice. Eddie focused on his work and you focused on Eddie working. By the time the blood was gone the damage didn’t look half as bad as it might have, though Eddie’s face suggested otherwise.

“You’ve got some glass in there,” he murmured, brow pulled down.

“Probably half of the touch screen,” you mumbled back, and squeezed your other hand into a fist as he used tweezers and concentration so fierce to pull pieces of your phone out of your skin. Among the cuts from the obvious source, there were crescent moon shaped little divots in your skin. You were surprised you hadn’t broken a finger you’d squeezed your hand so hard.

“You haven’t been very kind with this hand, have you,” Eddie noted as he finally put the tweezers down and dragged the kit onto his lap to dig through it. “Punching Venom, showing a phone who’s boss.”

You managed a laugh. It was awfully watery, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. Eddie’s phone, which he’d put on the table, lit up again. It was your mother’s number. The lump seemed to thicken and you tilted your head back to try and stop the flow of tears.

Eddie wrapped your hand in silence and then when the kit was clipped closed and put away to the side, without hesitation, he wrapped an arm back around your shoulders and reeled you back in.

You pressed your face into his shoulder and just tried to remember how to breathe. For now, you’d take the comfort.

Later on you’d have to figure out how to piece back the life you’d made back together.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly more serious. The only thing you would have missed out of this chapter is Venom offering to eat both reader's mother and this mysterious past boyfriend from college who's causing her so much distress. Even Venom knows how to be delicate in times like this.
> 
> I am back to work! So expect slower updates lmao, the time of night I normally dedicate to writing is the time I now leave for work


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was probably about time. You could have done with having just one shock for the day though.

“Okay,” you finally said, sounding stuffy and blocked up and all kinds of nasty. “You need to take the shirt off.”

You felt Eddie’s shoulder underneath your cheek tense from where you’d yet to bother lifting your head. The hand that had been lazily rubbing your back had paused.

“This is a bit forward,” he laughed awkwardly, drawing his arm away when you sat upright and used your left hand to scrub at your face.

“I saw the wall. I was delirious, not blind.” You eyed him, the way he shifted in his seat guiltily. “And I noticed how you tried to prevent me from seeing it on the way back up by putting your great big hulking body in the way, but that same great big hulking body put a dent in the wall courtesy of me, so shirt off.”

“I’m fine,” Eddie promised.

“Look.” You took a deep breath, trying to hold back the burn of even more tears. The breath caught in your throat and left you feeling slightly breathless. “The last person I hit that hard is the reason I’m a mess right now. I need to see you’re okay for myself. Either you take it off, or I will.”

**_Let her try. I’m excited._ **

Eddie exhaled slowly, drawing his lower lip into his mouth to chew on.

You felt a sudden stab of betrayal.

“If you’re a mutant too, you don’t need to worry about me spouting it out,” you told him firmly, because how else would he be okay after you’d struck him across the chest with enough force that once before you’d nearly killed someone with it.

“It’s…” Eddie sighed. “It’s not that.” He shuffled half an inch across the sofa away from you, leaving you cold as his warmth and bulk left your side. He shrugged his shirt off but this time you didn’t get distracted by the abs.

His chest was unblemished. As in, completely. You’d hit hard enough to throw him into a wall and there was nothing there.

“The back?” you asked, your voice quiet and far away.

Eddie turned obliging. His back was just as clear. You’d _seen_ the hole he’d put in the wall. Seen the scattered pieces on the floor. Now, either the wall was just that weak, or Eddie was just that tough, but it wasn’t computing.

Unable to help yourself, you reached out to tap your fingertips on his back. Firm, unyielding flesh. He didn’t even flinch, as if somehow the bruises were invisible.

“How?” your voice cracked, but somewhere deep inside it was relief. He was fine. Wasn’t hurt.

**_Should tell her._ **

For once, Eddie felt inclined to agree.

“Look, I can give you the long story, or the short version.” He spread his hands out as in question and you picked up his shirt and set it down in his palms in reply.

“I just want to know how you’re okay. I thought – “ the breath caught again and it came out of your nose, shaky. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone else.”

Eddie’s hand closed gently over your forearm, squeezing softly. He had his shirt back on, though a little rumpled in his rush. His hair was askew and wild.

“I’m okay,” he said, quietly. “I promise.”

“Right.” You scrubbed your face again and made probably the most disgusting noise ever as you sniffled and tried to unblock your nose. It couldn’t have been that bad, because there was a faint smile of amusement on Eddie’s face.

“Did you want to splash your face first?” he asked, jovially. You punched him gently in the shoulder, no more than a knock of your knuckles on his arm.

“Just tell me.”

“We’re going back a few years here now,” Eddie warned. “To my first uh, SNAFU with the Life Foundation.”

You shifted around so you were sideways on the sofa, one leg tucked under you so you could face him.

“So,” Eddie held up a hand and folded in his thumb. “First, I pissed off Drake, got thrown out of my job, my apartment and my relationship. Don’t worry, this becomes relevant.”

You felt suddenly guilty, that he was telling you all of this at your demand, but he didn’t seem uncomfortable, just unsure.

“Then, six months later, one of the scientists realised that what I tried to expose was actually the truth.” His face twisted, something almost close to misery at what he was remembering.

“The um, taking people off the street and experimenting on them,” you said quietly. Eddie nodded quietly.

“One of them was my friend,” he said, and this time it was your turn to comfort as you reached out and closed a hand over his wrist. He smiled at you, but it was subdued.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked,” the words came out of you faster than you could stop them. “You – You don’t have to – “

“I want to now,” Eddie cut you off firmly. “It’s only fair, that if I have one secret of yours, I give you one of equal or greater value, so we can level out the playing field, huh?”

“I feel like I’m forcing you.”

“It was bound to come out sooner or later.” Eddie put his free hand down on yours where you were still holding his wrist. “Besides, I felt a little…what’s the word. Unfair, keeping this from you.”

“We’ve known each less than a week,” you reminded him quietly. “You don’t owe me this.”

“I want you to know,” Eddie reaffirmed, feeding his fingers through so they were curled into your palm and trapped between your hand and his wrist. It felt strangely intimate, but you allowed him the comfort, considering all he’d given you.

“Okay.” You nodded, bandaged hand lifting to brush hair from your face. “You were at the scientist.”

“I was.” Eddie agreed and cleared his throat. “From here on out, it gets fucked. So, a couple of weeks before I bite off more than I can chew, the Foundation have a spacecraft enter the atmosphere over Malaysia and break up. Crew all dead, cargo unaccounted for – supposedly. Turns out – and please, bear with me here – they brought back aliens.” He paused, as if waiting for you to dispute him.

“Eddie,” you said slowly. “There’s an alien in the Avengers. Or he’s a god, depending on who you listen to. New York got the shit beaten out of it a few years ago. Aliens is far from what’s going to stop me believing in you.”

“Right.” Eddie’s body seemed to loosen in relief. “Now, these things they bring back, they can survive in the vacuum of space, but can’t survive in our nitrogen and oxygen rich atmosphere. They need a host.”

“The human trials,” you pieced it together numbly, feeling weirdly numb. “So, so what, they’re parasites?”

Eddie flinched and you wondered what you’d said wrong. As you moved to pull your hand back, he squeezed, letting you know all was good.

“No. Much more,” he said sombrely. “Fully intelligent, just living in a hostile environment. Without a host, they don’t survive, unless kept in an artificial vacuum. But if the host doesn’t meet the requirements of what they called the symbiote, they die, and the symbiote will search for another host as long as it is able to survive.”

“I’m guessing the human trials didn’t go as intended.”

“My friend didn’t survive,” Eddie muttered. “That much I know. But back on track. The scientist – Dora Skirth – she let me into the Foundation, let me see what was going on. It was awful. Not just what they were doing with the symbiotes, but to other people who didn’t know what they were doing, it just…” he sneered. “I’m glad it went down in flames.”

You had a good enough gist of an idea to get what was going on. What Eddie was insinuating with his back story. But you let him continue.

“My friend wasn’t a suitable host. I was. Am.”

And there it was.

“So you have an alien living inside of you.”

“Yeah.” Eddie shrugged. “You’re taking this better than I did, I can tell you that. But the benefits – so long as the symbiote gets what it needs – is I’m a little stronger than your average person. A little more robust. It can fix problems pretty much before they become a problem.”

You chewed on the phrasing of his words, wondering why it didn’t seem to sound right. Then it clicked.

“What if the symbiote doesn’t get what it needs?”

“Right.” Eddie grimaced. “This is where everything gets even fuckier. If you’re going to throw a punch, use your good hand.”

Uh oh. He thought you were going to be so triggered you’d throw a punch.

“If I don’t feed it, it eats my organs.”

Wait, what.

“It requires a certain chemical – surprisingly, one that can be found in cocoa plants - chocolate mostly. And also one that’s found in certain human organs.”

That explained the exorbitant amount of chocolate cake.

“Why did you think I was going to punch you?”

Eddie tried to smile and pulled his hands back. You put your own in your lap.

“My symbiote, has a name.” He held his hand out, palm up.

_Gently. And if you fuck this up, it’s your own fault._

You stared, almost uncomprehending, as something black and inky seemed to come out of the skin of Eddie’s palm, waving like a plant in the wind. It looked awfully familiar.

“No,” you found yourself saying. “No, you – “

“Please use your good hand for the punch,” Eddie begged, trying to make light of the situation.

**_We’re being gentle. Why is she afraid?_ **

“That looks like – “ you began, reaching out. You faltered halfway there, but the tendril swayed towards you, as if reaching.

“It’s friendly,” Eddie promised. “At least, for you. Not so much for others. We have a system.”

“I thought Venom was a he,” you automatically replied, because there was nothing else in the world that had the slippery colour the thing coming out of Eddie’s palm had.

“When we’re one, yes. When it’s me and it’s…docile, there is no gender. No concept of it for these guys up there out in space. It’s still called Venom, it’s just sometimes _we’re_ also Venom.”

“The plurals make sense now,” you murmured. “Can I touch him – them, sorry – or?”

**_Yes please._ **

“It’s trying to be conservative on your behalf,” Eddie said, almost jokingly. You took it as permission though, and reached the tip of your index finger forward.

The tendril grew, reaching towards you in turn until it was wrapped twice around your finger, loose and gentle. It was warm, smooth to touch. Exactly like Venom.

“Is it Venom that has the masochism streak or you?” you asked unable to help yourself. The tendril squeezed gently and you extended the rest of your fingers, watching as it undulated almost gleefully and started to spread out further.

Eddie laughed, startled.

“It likes the strength,” he said, and then ducked his head, ears burning as he admitted, “I do too. Leave the violence to Venom though, huh?”

“There’s definitely something easier about punching him in the face and not you,” you agreed without thinking. “You’re more human and it just doesn’t sit right to hit you because. Well, you’ve seen why.”

Your entire index finger was covered in a mesh, like a thin fishnet stocking, the rest of your fingers loosely tangled. It was creeping, slowly. If you let it be it would cover your hand soon. You let it be. If Venom chomped your hand off, he’d see how hard you could hit.

Eddie laughed again, seeming unconcerned as the tendril from his hand grew and encompassed more of you. If he was unconcerned, you could be unconcerned.

“When people see Venom, they don’t generally think about hitting him.”

“If you never let this go, I’ll never forgive you,” you told him sagely. “But this answers a fair amount of questions including how one becomes friends with the thing that goes around eating people. Also being the thing that goes around eating people makes much more sense than befriending it.”

“It’s an alibi. One I’ve never used until you, but I’m glad I’ll never use it again. Venom very much didn’t like lying about it.”

**_Human semantics. Why lie when the truth is available._ **

Your whole hand was covered by the mesh now. It was like wearing a glove that had just finished drying on the radiator. You were somewhat thankful that you could still see your skin through it. If it had fully covered your hand you weren’t sure what you would have thought.

“So Venom can listen in as we talk?”

Eddie made a face.

“Uh. When it bonds with me, it bonds with my everything. It can sense everything. Everything. Can filter through my memories. It wouldn’t be too farfetched to say it’s my blood, my bone. Everywhere it can settle, it will.”

“Including any edible organs.”

Eddie’s lips quirked into a smile.

“Including edible organs,” he agreed.

“That’s uh. Pretty intense.” You reached your bandaged hand over, stroking over the covering of your other hand. It tried to stick to your fingertips as you dragged them over it and you couldn’t help but smile at that. It was almost cute like this.

It wriggled after your hand when you pulled it back down but settled back into the hand mesh almost immediately afterwards. It was still connected to Eddie but you guessed with what he said, that was a requirement.

A thought struck you.

“It wouldn’t want to bond with me?” you asked.

“No.” Eddie shook his head. “We’re comfortable as we are. And I’m paraphrasing, but Venom says it likes looking at you from an outside perspective and so doesn’t need an inside one.”

**_Pussy._ **

“’Paraphrasing’?”

“Still aiming to not get punched.”

You pulled your hand slowly back, felt an almost stretch as the main mass surrounding your hand held on. When it started to ease back, to let you go, probably assuming you wanted your hand back, you put your hand back into range. It had strength to it.

“Hey,” you addressed the goop on your hand, felt it ripple against your skin. “Absolutely don’t let go. Okay?”

You felt it settle firmer around your wrist and started to pull back again. Without applying your strength, it had no give. You were tethered to it firmly. Eddie was watching on in amusement.

You started to properly pull then, curling your fingers as if trying to grab onto it, despite the fact your entire hand was being held in return. It started to stretch slowly then, though more and more of it was fed from the main tendril on Eddie’s hand.

“I can only imagine the havoc you’re going to cause,” Eddie said. He sounded almost fond. You tried not to dwell on it, wondering if he was talking to you, or to Venom.

It was almost hard to pull, with how steadfast it was being. You were pressuring though, little by little and yelped, startled, when the tension gave way and snapped. The only place you had to fall was the sofa, but the tendril reattached almost immediately, what had once looked like black lace flowing back down to your fingertips to rejoin with Eddie.

It flowed backwards all the way and you watched, with awe and no little amount of fear, as Eddie’s skin and clothing was swallowed in a sea of black until it wasn’t just tendrils keeping you upright with a grasp on your hand but Venom himself, the black folding over Eddie’s smiling face as if he’d expected it to happen.

The sofa was creaking very angrily when Venom settled, unerring grin ever in place.

 ** _“We’re going to enjoy this,”_** he told you gleefully.

Your first thought was he was going to eat you. Your second thought devolved into chaos because Venom had swept forward to apparently attempt to gently crush you in a hug.

 ** _“We’re friends now,”_** he told you quite proudly. **_“Eddie should have listened long ago.”_**

You abruptly, violently flushing, remembered the fact you had discussed Venom’s dick with Venom, proverbially, _in the room._

 ** _“Your heart rate increased.”_** Venom informed you cheerfully.

What the fuck had your life become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Featured:
> 
> \- Venom spamming Eddie's memories of the 'Just DO IT' meme until he got up the guts to tell  
> \- You're screaming on the inside because like this, Venom is somehow cute /until he's not/  
> \- Eddie reminding Venom to be GENTLE. Venom is just 0-100 in nothing flat because you KNOW  
> \- How happy Venom was when you told him not to let go because he knew you were going to show your STRONG  
> \- When you addressed Venom the amount of excitement it felt could NOT be measure omg someone talking not to Eddie but to ME???? And its STRONG LADY????  
> \- Venom disappointed that Eddie took his shirt off like a sensible human being rather than letting you tear it off of him.  
> \- Parasite? PARASITE?! continue ad infinitum a la that one episode of brooklyn nine nine where Holt gets offended at the word bone  
> \- The outside/inside perspective Venom had was /much/ filthier than Eddie was letting on. Goddamn, who taught Venom these things


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you think Venom can hold himself back now that you know, you can think again.

Venom holds onto you for so long, you aren’t sure if he’s aware that hugs generally don’t last this long, or if he’s just being a dick – because surely being _bonded_ with a human being he absolutely knows human societal convention.

Despite the declaration of friendship, you’re still wary enough that you don’t want to just tell him to let go. You don’t have a baseline of what did or didn’t offend him after all.

But he’s very, very warm, and you’re becoming very, very uncomfortably. So, jokingly, and knowing now that he’d be receptive to it, you asked, “Are you going to let me go or do I need to make you let go?”

The very bulk of his body around you seemed to ripple, his arms tightening minutely to just before the point that it would start to hurt. Absurdly, you felt very safe. You doubted anything would get to you like this.

 ** _“You can try,”_** Venom probably tried to go for haughty, but you heard, this close, how his voice betrayed his excitement.

He’d thrown his arms around your waist, probably to avoid accidentally snapping your neck, so your own arms were free – at the moment you had them gingerly tucked in front of you, to avoid touching him as much as possible.

Now, you moved one hand to rest on the crook of his elbow. His arms were perfectly situated so your hips were enclosed in the bend of his arms. For a single, long moment, you wondered if you’d really be strong enough to do this.

Then you pushed the doubts away and started to push. The muscle under your hand made some very strange motion and for a time didn’t move. You felt his fingers move at the small of your back, fought the urge to shiver, and realised he’d moved from grasping you, to grasping his own forearms, interlocking his arms tightly.

“Cheat,” you murmured, looked up in time to catch the widening grin of teeth. You shifted your balance. You were nearly in his lap at this moment and let the cradle of his arms keep you upright until you could reach both hands behind you. One of your hands found his immediately, and you wormed your fingers under his, getting a good grip.

Oh, he tried to stop you of course, but you managed to worm your way in on both sides, so you were holding onto one finger of each hand. Fuck, he was big. You could probably get two of his fingers in your own hand, had you tried, but gripping one was easier.

You squeezed hard enough that you felt the fingers in your grasp start to almost lose their shape and the sudden inhalation above and around you startled you – it was the first breath Venom had taken that you knew of. And it was a gasp.

You suddenly wondered the repercussions of showing off your strength in front of the thing that admired it.

Now though, you were kind of stuck. If you pulled at his hands, they’d probably slide along his arms, trapping you tighter. But the idea struck you, and before you could stop yourself, you shoved down, hard.

His biceps were tight enough around you that when they passed over your hips instead of ensconcing them, they caught the lip of the tights under your dress. You felt them roll down your thighs as you started to gather your legs underneath you and into Venom’s lap, entirely determined to climb out of his grip if that’s what it took.

With one knee under you, since you’d pushed his arms with force enough to get one leg free and therefore, you were not entirely free, you were face to face with him.

And fuck, you’d forgotten how numerous and sharp his teeth were. You were reminded, abruptly, of how terrifying that was.

You wobbled, hands leaving his so one could dart out to his shoulder, fingers digging in for balance. Your heart was in your throat as you tried to swallow back the fear. You were not going to be eaten, no matter what your hindbrain screamed at you.

 ** _“Would you look at that,”_** Venom mused, and the phrase was so utterly _human_ you suddenly remembered that Eddie was in there, somewhere. You managed a smile, and gathered your other leg underneath you, since Venom had declined to remove his arms, letting you climb the rest of the way rather than offering any sort of assistance. It placed your breasts level with his face this time, but he didn’t seem bothered by that, having more a reaction to your strength than your physical features.

You weren’t sure if you should be offended by that or not.

You got one leg over the cage of his arms, foot sinking into the softness of the sofa and moved one hand to the back of it, for balance. Your other leg followed shortly after and you tried not to flinch when something wet touched your ankle through the sheer fabric of your tights.

Look, if all Venom was going to do was lick you when your back was turned, you would count your blessings.

Settling back into the sofa, you were unsurprised the see the bandage on your hand bloodied. The adrenaline of showing Venom, _Venom_ that you could do what you’d promised had sung through your veins. Now that it was over, you were reminded that yes, you’d grabbed onto his hand and squeezed, despite having your hand eviscerated by your phone not thirty minutes before.

 ** _“We can eat him,”_** Venom offered, out of the blue. **_“The one that did that.”_** His eyes were on the spread of red colour, the gauze’s previous white colour slowly being eaten away.

“I did it to myself,” you muttered. “And correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m sure you don’t want to eat me.”

 ** _“No,”_** Venom agreed. **_“At least not in that way.”_**

There were many things in life you refused to touch, even with a ten-foot barge pole. This would be one of those things.

 ** _“But,”_** he continued. **_“Don’t insult us. We hear what Eddie hears, know what Eddie knows. Know that you would not hurt, if not for the other one.”_**

“The only person at fault in that entire situation was me,” you said, feeling tired and sinking into the comfort of the sofa. One of Venom’s hand stretched the span of the space between you, so he could slink warm fingers around the bend of your arm. You refrained from moving that one arm, as if trying to prevent scaring off a wild animal. It almost felt like the same comfort that exuded from Eddie.

To busy yourself, you adjusted the way you were sat to try and prevent the dig of the rolled tight hem into your thighs. It wouldn’t be proper for you to reach up the hem of your dress to drag your tights back into agreeable territory.

 ** _“An accident,”_** Venom sounded out slowly. **_“And you blame yourself. Unneeded.”_**

It somehow stung, having it laid out like that. You drew a leg up under yourself, defensively, pulling your arm free of his loose grip to tuck against your front, as if protecting your belly. The truth, to you, was plain and simple. You’d tried to live a normal life as a mutant and failed miserably – as you had done now, a second time.

Eddie could have been another Aiden. Another reason to run. Another broken body in a broken wall, offering forgiveness instead of blame. And with no one heaping the blame onto you, you’d taken up the mantle yourself, as it should be.

“How I feel is how I choose. There are so many ways it could have gone – and I chose the worst. If I want to blame myself, let me. It’s none of your business.” You took in a deep breath, felt your fingers twitch and spasm before you moved to hold yourself, fingers closed around opposing elbows,

Venom tilted his head over, watching you silently for too long to be comfortable. He was definitely very unaware of human cues and social interaction.

**_“What about the mother?”_ **

“What about her?”

Venom grinned. **_“We can eat her?”_**

“Oh. No, no. As much as I wish she would stay out of my life, I don’t want her out of it in that way. She’s still my mother. Idealistic thoughts of me and my…ex or no.” You idly unfolded your arms to cross your hands together, thumb of one picking at the scab on the back of the other, where the teeth of the very thing sitting next to had split them not two, three days before.

With how wild everything had been, it was strange to think barely a week had passed since Eddie had watched you lift a car because you were tired and couldn’t be bothered to crawl underneath it.

Now, in that time, Eddie was a new, close sort of friend and harboured a secret under his skin just as damning as yours – if not more so. And he’d shared it with you.

You didn’t realise you’d been staring until Venom grinned, tongue lolling gently from his jaws as he asked, almost coyly – and how strange that an alien could be coy, sly, when Venom himself was larger than life.

**_“Do you like what you see?”_ **

Without thinking, you replied, “It’s something, for sure.”

 ** _“Don’t worry,”_** Venom was still grinning. **_“We like what we see.”_**

Ooh, boy, if he was trying to make you as flustered as Eddie could he wasn’t quite there but was creeping in close. If he had less teeth, then maybe you’d be feeling it more. The teeth were definitely a factor.

“Oh?” you asked, lifting to rest elbow on the back of the sofa, head cradled in your palm. “I was under the impression you liked what I could do, not what I look like.”

**_“And if you thought that, you would be wrong.”_ **

Venom spoke with an unerring intensity that it made you swallow, licking your lips abruptly. He seemed pleased with whatever he’d seen on your face and it made you quickly lower your hand from the sofa again, so you could look the other way as casually as possible.

Did this count as flirting? What was Eddie and what was Venom? This seemed very much Venom, but you wondered, how much was the alien, and if you peeled it back, how much was Eddie.

As if sensing your dilemma, Venom leaned forward, pitching his voice to a low rumble.

**_“And if you were concerned – that goes for the both of us. I am not the only one who appreciates the outside perspective.”_ **

Enter Kill Bill sirens. It was both. But judging by the look on Venom’s face, you imagined he was garnering some sort of tongue lashing from Eddie for throwing that out there. It was a them thing. A Venom _and_ Eddie thing. Both of them.

And, awfully, you felt your cheeks burn in a flush.

It was one thing speculating, if someone found you attractive. It was another thing entirely to have it confirmed.

You adjusted your position again nervously, dragging a leg up to sit on it. The tights rolled further, caught in friction against the sofa. The flush seemed to worsen, crawling up your neck when you noticed Venom’s eyes dart down to the strip of exposed skin between dress and tights before you hurried to pull your dress further down, covering your thigh again.

You were being checked out by an alien-man-thing. You must have been bright red, watching as his eyes dragged from where your hands were smoothing your dress, all the way up the length of your upper body in a slow track, like a predator following prey.

 ** _“We have a bathroom,”_** Venom began, voice still low, like the purr of a wildcat, **_“should you wish to flee again to regain your composure.”_**

“I have no compunctions against hitting you as hard as I need to,” you croaked out, embarrassed. Venom had been a fly on the wall for _every_ awkward conversation you’d had with Eddie _about_ Venom. He’d seen the flirting between the two of you – and now you wondered if this was his own attempt. There was nothing else it could be.

**_“We know. If it wouldn’t make you uncomfortable, we’d encourage it.”_ **

You stood from the sofa, brushing your hands on the front of your dress nervously. There was a sticky patch, where you’d wiped the blood from Eddie’s phone onto the fabric earlier. You wondered distantly how many missed calls the phone had, courtesy of your mother, but it was clear and silent on the table – Eddie had turned the notifications off after the first phone call, when you still felt numb and had still been pressed into his side.

Venom’s eyes rolled down to the patch of blood on your dress and the most jarring thing yet happened. The black mass that consisted of the head peeled back, like the skin of a ripe orange underneath your nails.

Eddie’s face met you.

It was almost comical. A tiny head on broad shoulders, a broader body. When he spoke, his voice was his own, but it had a gravelly undertone to it, like a distant engine revving.

“Would you like to go home and change? I’m sure we can wait.”

“If I go home I might lose my nerve to come back,” you admitted. “But this time I promise, I really am freshening up.”

Eddie grinned at you, familiar, and you were glad, despite the current circumstances, he was as considerate as ever. You wondered what sort of luck it was, good or bad, that a man like him had been lumped with Venom.

The black mass slunk back into place, slippery like oil over water, teeth curling over the crown of Eddie’s head until it was Venom facing you again.

“That’s very um, unnerving,” you offered.

Venom constantly had his face in a rictus grin, but you felt you could almost read the different ones by this point. This one, the slight stretch, showed amusement.

**_“We know.”_ **

You wondered if it was the last thing a lot of people saw, Eddie stood there, hands in pockets, as a living nightmare swallowed him whole and became a monster. Monster was an unkind word. At least, for this one thing, this Venom who had given you a potted plant because he’d felt remorse for scaring you.

“Thank you,” you said, unbidden. “I don’t know how much Eddie has helped me, or how much you’ve helped me but. Thank you. For all that, and the aloe. I…” you didn’t know what else to say. Gratitude was gratitude, and you didn’t want to heap it full of useless words.

**_“Doing good things makes Eddie happy, and we like that. But we also like to see you happy. It’s a novelty. We’ve never had to look out for anyone other than ourselves. A while, since we’ve had a new friend, so close to home.”_ **

“Well,” you joked, “I hope the novelty doesn’t wear off. I’d hate to become dinner any time soon.”

 ** _“Oh,”_** and he was being coy again – you wondered if your heart could take this. Venom was flirting and had no qualms about it, had already made peace with his gods or whatever. **_“We’ve already said there’s another way that we could eat you all up. And it wouldn’t be for dinner.”_** A claw tipped finger reached forward, curling gently into the hem of your dress.

And _that_ was your cue to flee, gripping your dress and tights underneath in equal measure so you wouldn’t trip on loose fabric as you scuttled across the apartment towards the bathroom.

Venom’s throaty laughter filled the apartment as you left. You decided to yourself then and there, even if he enjoyed every moment, you’d be hitting him again, just for the principle of the matter.

You weren’t sure how an alien living in the body of a man knew how to make so many sexual innuendos, but you weren’t going to ask for fear of receiving more. Or so, that’s what you told yourself.

Embarrassed or no, there was still a little thrill to it you couldn’t deny. And you’d near about fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. You’d have to ask Eddie what he’d been teaching Venom and pretend the topic of conversation couldn’t hear you.

Just…not today. You weren’t sure you could take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No end notes. But Rest In Peace Stan Lee. Thank you for all the wonderful content you've created.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to get your life back together piece by piece. Eddie's there too. Such a good boy.

_You have got to stop being so forward before she backs off,_ Eddie chastised the immediate moment the bathroom door shut, despite the fact he was using his inner voice and you had no way of hearing.

Venom settled his weight on the sofa, the boards and springs creaking again.

**_“Why.”_ **

Not even a question, the smarmy bastard.

_You’re being very sexual._

**_“I know.”_** Pride. Eddie wished he could smack himself in the face this was so absurd.

 _People usually aren’t that forward with their intentions until already in an established relationship._ Begrudgingly, he offered up examples from his memories, felt the way that Venom contemplated them.

Venom responded with other memories, of tight warm, dark corners in a building being pounded with bass, voices raised over music.

 _Different,_ Eddie argued. _In that setting, they’re looking for it. In this setting, we have to be more gentle._

 ** _“Gentle, gentle, always gentle,”_** Venom grumbled. **_“Soft humans.”_**

 _Very,_ Eddie agreed. _Emotional. We make attachments differently than to what you and I have. We don’t immediately know everything that she is, like I you and you I._

Understanding seemed to dawn then, Venom humming contemplatively.

_You have to build up to a relationship like ours, without the benefit of symbiosis._

**_“Fine. We’ll do it this long way.”_ **

“Sorry – “ your voice broke through the conversation, from where you were stood in the bathroom doorway. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I think I have to go home and change anyway.”

You’d stripped the tights down, knee purple with bruising in the light of the apartment. The blood you’d attempted to wash away had simply spread, along with a great big wet patch of water and smeared blood. You were holding your dress out slightly by one hand to keep the damp from touching your skin.

 ** _Eddie,_** Venom could be tactful sometimes – such as using his inner voice. He sounded mournful, eyes on the bare skin of your legs, exposed up to the thigh. You shuffled nervously under the scrutiny. **_The long way seems like the hard way._**

_I know._

To you, Venom simply grinned.

**_“We’ll be waiting.”_ **

You smiled thankfully, picking your way across the apartment. You were nearly at the door, when something snagged you by the shoulder and spun you gently.

 ** _“Wait,”_ ** Venom looked down at you from his towering height and the difference was almost dizzying. A – and you didn’t want to keep calling them tentacles, it seemed dirty somehow – but a tentacle unfurled from his chest and folded out until presented to you were your keys, and the crumpled letters from your letterbox that Eddie had snatched.

You were thankful that they had been shuffled, the one from Aiden no longer on top.

“Thanks!” Honestly you’d forgotten Eddie had both your mail and your keys. As you accepted them both, the tentacle rubbed softly against the pads of your fingers. You tried not to think too much on it, even as Venom looked proud.

**_Gentle._ **

_Good,_ Eddie praised, and you glanced over your shoulder just in time to see Venom preening.

You tried not to dwell as you padded across the sticky hallway towards your own apartment, fumbling with the key before stepping inside and shutting the door behind you, the latch flipped out of habit.

You crossed to the kitchen first, let the damp, gross material of your dress go so it slapped against your thighs.

Eddie had cleaned the sink out. Bastard. He was too kind. The mail was thrown onto the sofa and you stripped your dress as you crossed the apartment, discarding it on the floor along with your bundled tights.

You debated to yourself whether or not you were going back out during the day and decided to throw on jeans and a sweater – telling yourself that it wasn’t hiding when you didn’t want your bare skin on display just in case.

The attention was nice, sure, but Venom was still a level of freaky as fuck.

Then, because you didn’t know how long you had, you shuffled through your mail until Aiden’s was back on top. It was slightly crumpled from before when you’d gripped it tight and stared at the familiar writing.

Your fingers were starting to ache, so you eased up and took in a deep breath. You let it out slowly and sat down, dragging your laptop over. It took a few minutes to boot up and then you scrolled through your emails.

Nothing new. Unsurprising, considering you’d changed email and not told him the new one. Not even your mother knew your email. Work and business only. It just led to the fact – was it your mother who had given him your details of her own volition, or did he ask for them.

And why did it have to be in your office, where you’d see him every single day?

Sighing heavily, you hastily typed ‘accounting jobs’ into the search bar and left the search loaded as you shoved shoes onto your feet and hastened out of your apartment.

You must have shut the door behind you too hard – because combined with the damage done before in your haste – the door fell out of the hinges and you were left stood there, holding the door by the handle as the whole thing disconnected from the wall.

“Are you fucking _kidding me,”_ you blurted before you could help yourself, the door dropping to the floor with a dull thump. You twisted it slightly so it was propped against the doorframe.

“What’s up – ah.” Eddie had popped his head out of his apartment immediately upon the noise, and now his face was something between amusement and concern. He stepped out, back to his normal self and examined the hinges.

“I never replaced the screws when I moved in,” you admitted. “And they’re tiny little bastards. I’m surprised the door lasted as long as it has.” True to your word, the screws had come free of the hinges and doorframe both. And for good measure, one of the hinges was warped.

“You weren’t ever concerned about anyone breaking in?”

“The only thing they could take from me would be my shitty laptop,” you admitted. “And it doesn’t have anything remotely important on it. A lot of my life is work and sleep. Occasionally, I’ll eat.”

“You want to move anything important into my place and we can try and hunt down Lindley?”

“I’ll move my stuff over,” you agreed. “But I think I’ll be better off just getting my own new hinge. And maybe even a new door. I won’t be able to sell the place if it isn’t at least semi-decent.”

Eddie started, a lurch of movement in the corner of your eye.

“You’re moving?”

“Absolutely. Aiden – “ youlicked your suddenly dry lips, his name sticking in your throat. “He knows where I live now and I don’t. I don’t think I can deal with him showing up one day in person.”

“Are you afraid of hurting him?”

“No, no. Nothing like that. But I don’t know what I might do and that scares me. I don’t…I’ve lived a normal life up until now. I want it to stay normal. I mean, it’ll be hard, knowing you and your friend, but Aiden is…a difficult memory.”

You smoothed your sweater down compulsively, trying to ignore the tremble in your hands.

“I loved him. I might still do. And I know it’s me being selfish that I don’t want to see him, because he’s forgiven me a thousand times over but – “ you pursed your lips.

“You haven’t forgiven yourself?” Eddie guessed, and you grimaced that he’d hit the nail on the head.

“Exactly,” you agreed, picking at a loose thread. “I just…wanted to live a normal life. Not that it’s normal now, knowing you but.” You sighed. “I like living here. But I don’t want to live somewhere uncomfortably.”

“Do you have a picture of him?” Eddie asked suddenly. “We can keep an eye out for you. You don’t have to leave immediately. Don’t have to let him chase you out – you were here first. And if he demands you meet up well, we’ve been told we’re quite intimidating.”

Here Eddie was, being the pinnacle of humanity again. He was honestly almost too good to you, and it made you feel almost bitter.

“It’s been four days,” you said in lieu of reply. “That we’ve known each other for. And you’re being this good to me.”

“Look,” Eddie shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I was starving for human attention again after so long. Honestly, you’ve done just as much for me, I can tell you that. For both of us. Believe it or not, it’s hard to make friends when your other half debates eating them most of the time.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that.

“Plus,” Eddie added, “I think if you up and left now, Venom would sulk until you came back, whether or not you did.”

“What a baby,” you murmured in joking, and Eddie cracked a grin.

“If you think this guy you’re avoiding is going to pop in at any time at random, just stay at mine during the day and use your place to sleep,” Eddie suggested. “I doubt anyone will pop in at two in the morning, and from mine you can keep an ear out for anyone knocking at your door.” He looked over to the door, propped against the wall still. “Well, when it’s all back together.”

“I’m going to sort that out now,” you mumbled, ignoring his offer. “I know for a fact considering the phonecall, he’ll be at work – “ _my work,_ you bitterly thought “ – for a few hours left so he won’t be coming round today. I hope.”

“Want us to come with?” Eddie asked, leaning his shoulder into the wall as he watched you. You felt as if you’d just been talked down from a high place. Your hand throbbed, and you clasped it in your other, thumb rubbing over the gauze.

“I want to say yes. But I think I’d like some space just for a moment,” you admitted. “Get some fresh air. A moment to myself to just…breathe. I’ll – “ you nearly said call, felt your face twist at remembering the state of your phone.

“We’ll keep an eye on your place while you’re gone anyway,” Eddie offered.

“Right.” You nodded, and ducked in to your apartment, giving it a cursory look and choosing to throw some stuff into your bedroom so the living space was somewhat decent and not an absolute wreck.

Hidden in your bedroom was the chunk of run-money you’d withdrawn from the bank, and you stuffed the whole envelope into your purse. You’d buy a new phone on a pay as you go basis, and as soon as you had a card again, you’d set up a contract so you wouldn’t run out of minutes or texts.

Everything had seemed to get overly complicated overly fast. And all of a sudden, you realised there was one thing you could do to brighten your day up a little.

Eddie had already made himself comfortable on your couch.

“Hey, can I ask you a favour,” you said, hands on your hips. “When I say you, I actually need Venom and your phone for this.”

Eddie didn’t even look perturbed, just regarding you from the corner of the couch with a raised brow. “What can we do for you?”

“Before I fucked my phone, my brother, Jonah, kept sending me texts about how he was going to be the next X-Man – but he doesn’t actually go to the Academy until the end of this school year. I want to kind of…one up him. And take a selfie with Venom.”

Eddie’s face split into the widest grin you’d even seen as he stood up.

“Just so you know,” he said, “This is the best abuse of power I’ve ever heard of, and I love it.” The sea of black washed over him, snapping into place over his still grinning face.

 ** _“One condition,”_** Venom purred, the phone looking tiny in his hand. **_“You have to pick us up for it.”_**

You pretended to think about it.

“Deal.”

The grin on his face turned huge.

It took a lot of effort. You had to shove your TV and the stand into one corner, the couch into another. It took several minutes to figure out the timer on the phone and prop it at the perfect angle on the kitchen counter.

When you picked him up, you could tell he hadn’t expected it. The timer only had twenty seconds, and you’d scooped him into a bridal style carry, your face barely popping up over his body. It felt as if he were nearly hanging out of your hold, but he quickly slung a huge arm around your neck to hold on.

 ** _“This is the best,”_** he told you solemnly, and didn’t even blink when the flash of the camera went off. You wondered then if he ever blinked. He lacked eyelids, in exactly the same way he lacked lips.

You wondered if it would be rude to just drop him, because now you were just stood there, holding him, as you both gazed at each other.

In a weird rippling motion, it was made even more awkward because, instead of struggling to keep the bulk of Venom in your arms, you were now easily carrying the significantly smaller bulk of Eddie in your arms.

“I’m never going to get over this,” Eddie told you cheerfully, and swung one of his legs out of the cradle of your arm, prompting you to lower him down carefully before he threw himself to the floor or knocked himself out or something.

“Hey, I’m here for all your lifting needs,” you winked, and accepted his phone when he passed it over. The timer was actually a burst option, had taken five identical photos, all of them of you holding Venom in your arms.

You typed in your brother’s number, text him a succinct ‘guess who’ and before he could answer, sent one of the photos immediately after.

A flurry of replies followed.

**(Jonah):** _who is this?_

**(xxx):** _*Photo Attachment*_

**(Jonah):** _holy fuck! holy fcuk!! is that you????_

**(Jonah):** _that’s venom! what the fuck?_

**(Jonah):** _did you know mum’s trying to reach you??? is this why????_

The mention of your mother curdled your good mood.

 **(xxx):** ;)

You handed the phone over and advised, “You can take his number off and block it if you like. If my mother finds out, it’s just going to be another hoard of messages to get my attention.”

“Duly noted.” Eddie flipped his phone onto silent. “Anything I can do for you while you’re gone?”

You’d moved to start dragging the furniture back into place, thinking to reach out and smack the laptop shut as you pulled the sofa across the floor.

“Make sure nobody steals my stuff?” you joked, waving him away as he came to help.

“Well, if you have anything nice in the fridge might have to help myself,” Eddie shot straight back and was seemingly startled when you simply replied, “Help yourself. Haven’t got anything fun though.”

“I was kidding,” Eddie murmured. “But thanks.”

You lingered in the doorway when everything was back into place, purse slung over your shoulder, your fingers tangled in the straps as you stared at your feet.

“I know I said earlier, that it’s only been four days but…” you took in a fortifying breath. “When I say you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in years.” You looked up, noticed the serious, rapt look on his face.

“When I say that, I’m not lying. So honestly, thank you so much.”

“Don’t worry about,” Eddie said seriously, and crossed your apartment to reach your side. You’d hoped to admit it and then flee, but he placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Because I’ll have to admit, I feel the same. Best thing that’s happened to us in years.” He smiled, as if trying to soften the seriousness of your conversation, and then pulled you into a gentle hug.

You already knew he wasn’t very good at respecting personal space. You found you didn’t care, hands lifting to clutch back at him.

It hadn’t been a lie. Eddie – and by extension now, Venom – was the best thing to have happened to you ever since you’d planted your ex-boyfriend into a wall three and a bit years prior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not featured:  
> \- Venom screaming because he was finally lifted.  
> \- 'I wish she'd bang us as hard as she'd banged that door' 'Venom if you don't stop I'll fight you'  
> \- Venom still not reading the cues correctly and is convinced it's time to kiss you. Eddie has to fight him every step of the way. THERE ARE OTHER SIGNS VENOM. CALM DOWN.  
> \- Venom being the most impatient bastard on the planet.  
> \- EDDIE SHE LIFTED ME. ME! You too after BUT ME FIRST  
> \- We're the best thing that's happened to you in how many years????? /Eat everyone that's ever made your life go bad/


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought Eddie didn't have boundaries. Now you were reassessing your definition of the word, because Venom, oh my god, no.

“Funny looking hinge,” Eddie said, amused, as you dropped down onto the sofa next to him, impatiently opening a taped shut box to expose the device within.

“Oh shush.” You slid the phone out of its box and pressed down on the power button. “I felt like keeping up on things is more important. My bedroom locks.”

The amusement turned to alarm.

“You can’t stay here with the doorway empty like that,” he protested, leaning forward to place a beer bottle down on the floor. It was from his place, not yours – yours were cans.

You eyed the gap where the door once was critically and decided, “I can force the door to stay in place. Well enough that if anyone wants to get in, they’d have to break the door in. And I wouldn’t sleep through that.” You looked down at the loading screen of the phone impatiently. “Brute force works in some application.”

“Not with phones,” Eddie muttered and quickly looked away from the withering stare you levelled on him. “But honestly. Stay at mine. I’ll bunk on the sofa, you take the bed, we’ll go out and get your door sorted tomorrow.”

“You’ve already given me a lot of things. You don’t need to lump your bed into that list.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to. It’s kind of…exposing, don’t you think?” Eddie gestured to the doorway.

“I’ll wedge the door in,” you repeated, almost deadpan. “If I have to make the doorframe fit, I will.”

**_Let her try. Want to watch that happen._ **

“You know,” you added. “Your face does this thing when Venom talks to you.”

“You watch my face?” Eddie blurted in reply. You felt your face pink, quickly turning your attention back to your new phone.

“W-Well,” you managed. “It’s rude not to look at someone when you’re talking to them anyway.” The screen blinked on, the home screen greeting you brightly.

You stood up, eager to avoid an awkward conversation and crossed to the kitchen. Eddie had cleaned the sink, but the sad, crumpled, bloody mess of your phone was still on the side. Thank god for micro SIM cards. It hadn’t snapped, just settled among the mess like one more piece of debris.

But then you wondered if it was worth it because…it would have the same number. But it also had all your contacts saved to it.

You slotted it into your phone, waiting patiently for the signal bar to fill up. Then, not two minutes later it was shaking with messages, missed phonecalls and voicemails. Most of them were from your mother. One of them was from Danny, her husband.

You made your way back to sofa, neglecting to read any of the texts that would pop up invasively on the top of the screen, and sank down, stabbing a thumb at the contacts button and waiting for them to load in.

Reaching forward automatically, you startled at the lack of coffee table, no notepads or pens strewn about.

“Here,” Eddie suggested, passing his phone over. “Compose it in a text. When you put the new SIM in, I can send it to you.”

“Anyone tell you that you’re a good guy Eddie?” you asked, accepting his phone.

“Aw, shucks,” he demurred. “No one’s said that since we started eating heads. Nice change.”

“Have you tried eating less heads?” you offered, thumbs flying over the keyboard. Name, association with you, number. Like a masochist, you made sure to include your family’s numbers, even though you wouldn’t be texting them any time soon.

“I brought it up with Venom. Not a popular opinion.”

“Shame.” When the numbers had been copied, you balanced Eddie’s phone on your knee and swapped the SIM cards back over. Double checking what your new number was, you typed it into the contact bar of Eddie’s phone, then texted yourself all of the old numbers from your old SIM.

Then you saved your contact on Eddie’s phone under your name and a strong-arm emoji that took you at least two minutes to find. On your new phone, the text came through with an obnoxious tone that you resolved yourself to change at some point.

You saved the number under Eddie’s name and then began the long process of saving each number individually into your contacts.

“Did you want to stay for a late dinner? Unless you had some heads that needed eating.”

Eddie looked as if he were pretending to debate it, bringing his fist up under his chin to ponder. The click of the new keyboard on your phone was almost invasive in the silence. Another thing to change. You both hated and loved getting new phones – shiny new things, versus having to change it to perfection.

“Depends if what you’re offering is better than heads,” Eddie finally decided, and before you could answer, Venom’s guttural voice added, **_“I doubt that it is.”_**

“That’s Venom’s opinion,” Eddie reassured you, but you were just staring, phone limp in your hand, at the second head floating next to Eddie’s, a bobbing black mass of eyes and teeth.

“Does it normally like to um, do that?” you asked. The disembodied head floated a little closer to you. It radiated heat. You tried not to look like you were trying to escape when you turned your attention back to your phone and tucked one leg under you, so your upper body tilted slightly away.

“When it wants. First time’s always a shock.” Eddie lifted a hand and knuckled under Venom’s head, like scratching a cat’s chin. Venom’s eyes seemed to narrow in contentment, and it swayed away from you and back towards Eddie, until their cheeks were nearly touching.

Eddie looked fond. You felt this overwhelming sensation of invading a private moment.

“Right. But dinner wouldn’t be heads. I think I might enough stuff for spaghetti though, if that’s your style. I won’t begrudge you needing to go out and get heads after.” You paused then looked back up. “Why the heads?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie admitted. “Apart from it has the highest concentration of what Venom needs in the brain.” He grimaced, glanced at Venom and then down at his lap. “And when we’re Venom, together, it’s just…it’s _really_ good.”

**_“Phenethylamine.”_ **

Hearing such a long, scientific word spewed from Venom’s mouth in that guttural voice was a surprise. You found yourself googling it, thumbs darting over your phone screen.

“Phenethylamine,” you read aloud from the page you’d pulled up. “Acts as a central nervous system stimulant. It amplifies other stuff. The big stuff is serotonin and dopamine. Both feel good hormones apparently. Though, if it’s Venom that needs them – “

**_“We like to share,”_** Venom said proudly. **_“Good for both of us then.”_**

“I feel like I’m being Pavlov’d to enjoy brains,” Eddie sighed, but he still looked fond and you still felt like you were intruding. “But spaghetti sounds great for the human counterpart here.”

“You can mix it up altogether, so it looks like brains,” you offered.

Eddie laughed so hard it was a wonder he didn’t pull a muscle. Venom bobbed along the whole while.

* * *

 

You rolled over, suddenly awake. Your mouth felt like the desert and contrasted with the urge to pee. Slapping a hand over your phone, you winced at the flash of light when you illuminated the screen.

Two-forty-seven. Wonderful.

Swinging your legs out of bed, you activated the flashlight on your phone. The chill of the apartment brought goosebumps out against your bare legs, but the trip you had planned was short, and then you’d be back in the warm cocoon of your bed.

Using the light to step around the mess of your bedroom floor – you were _not_ a well put together adult despite your career path – you picked your way to the door.

Flipping the lock over, you eased the door open. The creak sounded obscenely loud in the dark quiet, but there was no one there to hear it but you.

You crept over to the bathroom first, leaving the door ajar. You cursed as your phone slipped into the sink bowl instead of balancing on the side when you set it down. You chose not to flush, not wanting to bestow the groaning of the pipes on your neighbours this time in the morning.

Fishing your phone out, you quickly rinsed your hands and patted them dry on the closest towel before stepping back out into the main room.

At this time of night, your phone’s flashlight made the shadows seem bigger and darker. You swung around to the kitchen, putting the phone screen down, light up, as you grabbed a glass and opened the fridge. You weren’t fond of the water piped in and drank from bottles.

The light of the fridge threw the room into stark relief, and when you turned with the bottle in your hand, already unscrewing the cap, you dropped all nearly two litres of it onto the floor and all over your bare legs.

Crouched in the living room part of the apartment, eyes staring unblinking at you, was Venom. His eyes and teeth nearly glowed in the faint light.

Your heart was ready to crawl out of your throat.

“Oh my _god,”_ you hissed, holding a hand over your chest for effect. “What the fuck?”

**_“It isn’t safe,”_** Venom said, head cocked to the side. Your eyes left his hulking mass briefly. If he’d come in through the broken front door, he’d wedged it very convincingly back into place.

“Look, I told Eddie – “ you began.

**_“Eddie is asleep.”_** Venom shrugged. Despite the cool air of the apartment, you felt nervous sweat gathering at the back of your neck knowing that Eddie wasn’t waiting under the layer of black.

“Does he know?” you asked, water beading down your leg. It was cold. Your throat was still dry.

Venom managed to look recalcitrant.

**_“No,”_** Venom admitted, rocking back on his haunches as if he debated straightening. **_“But I don’t need sleep. Not as much.”_**

“How long have you been here?”

**_“You turned your lamp out at seventeen minutes past eleven.”_ **

Wonderful. He’d been in your apartment for over three and a half hours, just hovering. Your heart was still pounding away but you were wide awake now. It felt rude, not putting your back to Venom, but you eased your way through the kitchen along the counter, keeping him within view until your hand slapped onto the light switch.

It was so bright it hurt, and when you were finished squinting Venom was upright.

“Look, I’m not going into the details of why you shouldn’t be here, but I don’t suppose if I want to go back to bed, you’ll just leave?” There wasn’t anything you could use in the kitchen as a towel to soak up the water and you weren’t about to rip off like six hundred pieces of paper towel.

**_“It isn’t safe,”_** Venom reiterated, as if you hadn’t once punched him so hard in the face that he’d caused multiple vehicle collisions and lost teeth.

“If someone comes into my apartment because the door’s broken, it won’t be to hurt me,” you promised. “It’ll be to steal my stuff. And if they decided to get past the lock in the bedroom, it won’t take me two seconds to kick them right back out.”

As if in protest to your words, Venom just hunkered back down again, like an overly large, overly creepy cat that understood what you were saying, but just didn’t care.

Very, very briefly, you entertained of using force to get him to leave but knew even if you got him past the threshold, he’d probably just squeeze back in as soon as you locked yourself back into the bedroom.

Exactly like a cat.

You shook one of your legs miserably, trying to get rid of the water, before traipsing over to the bathroom to retrieve a towel. You dumped it on the mess in the kitchen, scooting it around half-heartedly with your foot.

Venom continued looming silently like a tasteless decoration. Okay, maybe tasteless was harsh, but you were tired and confused and a little bit angry.

You went back into the bathroom to scrub another towel over your legs until the skin turned pink and you felt warmth in your skin. Sat on the edge of the tub, you realised you’d really just been stood there in nothing but a shirt and underwear and Venom hadn’t made an sly comments.

Maybe he really was worried. You balled the towel up and aimed for the hamper. You missed awfully. You wondered if he’d seen you pee. Did he have night vision? You decided they were two answers you didn’t need to know.

“So,” you said, crushing the plastic bottle in your hands when you walked back through, ready for the recycle bin. Another bottle was pulled from the fridge and you poured yourself half a glass. “What will it take to get you to leave?”

**_“We’ll leave,”_** Venom began slowly. **_“If you come with us. We’ll stay in the living room.”_** By the end he sounded earnest, or hopeful. You looked into your glass, watching as the water stilled the longer you stayed still yourself.

It would be exactly the same. Venom would be lurking beyond the door of whatever bedroom you slept in.

“If I come with you,” you started, “will you be staying in the living room like you have here, or sleeping?”

**_“We have a front door that locks. We’ll be sleeping.”_** He showed more teeth. Definitely trying to be earnest.

You didn’t like the thought of taking Eddie’s bed, but you honestly liked the thought of Venom just chilling in your personal space for so long even less.

“Just tonight,” you told him. “I’m getting a new door hinge in the morning. Or,” you amended, “this afternoon.” The microwave was cheerily blinking three-twelve. Man, you were so tired.

Venom straightened up. You retrieved your phone and tried to not look like you were fleeing when you stepped into the bedroom to cover your legs in sweatpants.

When you returned to the main room, you turned off the light and used your phone to navigate again. Venom was already waiting by the front door. Like a cat impatient to be let out.

The analogy was getting out of hand. Your eyes burned, and you felt your jaw crack when you yawned as you shoved your phone into your armpit, the flashlight barely sticking out and throwing long shadows as you pulled the door out of the frame.

You let Venom duck through first, feeling your mouth pull down in a frown as the crown of his head still brushed the frame above. You left, backwards, and wedged the door back into place. While forcing to fit, a little plaster rattled free from the wall.

When Venom opened the door to Eddie’s apartment – their apartment, really – every single one of the lights was on. You felt yourself squinting again, even as Venom ushered you almost urgently across the room towards the bedroom.

The bed was freshly made.

“Who made the bed?” you asked, setting your phone down.

**_“Eddie. We hoped you’d take the offer in the end.”_ **

“I suppose I did,” _under duress_ you added to yourself as you rolled the quilt back and tried not to think of, despite the fresh sheets, that it still smelled like Eddie as you sequestered yourself under the covers.

Venom hovered and for a long, bizarre moment, you wondered if he was going to tuck you in. His eyes were wide, unblinking and unerringly focussed. You wondered if you’d done something wrong.

**_“The lock?”_** Venom finally asked.

“Would probably not stop you if you were determined,” you managed, mostly just tired and trying not to feel embarrassed at what probably seemed like a huge moment of trust to Venom.

**_“Doors are no obstacle,”_** Venom agreed after another long, equally as bizarre moment. Eventually he eased away, scarily silent for something so large and flipped the light off. The door clicked shut behind his hulking mass.

Beyond the door, after a hugely disproportionate amount of time where you wondered if Venom was just behind the wood, listening to you breathe, you heard the sofa creak as weight settled into it.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep. You proved yourself otherwise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not Featured:  
> \- Eddie feeding the disembodied meatballs (because inside you're still a little kid and no spaghetti is complete without meatballs.)  
> \- Watching Eddie fight his own arm for the chance of another beer, fingers around the bottle, arm refusing to bend.  
> \- Venom's tongue is longer than it's floating head. You choose not to read into that, considering it has no throat.  
> \- (Venom did see you pee. He's no good at keeping secrets. Eddie will find out)  
> \- Venom initially snuck into the bedroom. He was wise enough to squeeze back out into the main room. He watched you sleep for twenty six minutes. Eddie will also find out about that.  
> \- It was all his idea. You're squishy, and human, no matter how strong.  
> \- He protec, he attac, but most important - you're not his snac


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it really had been going so well after all. Hang ups are hang ups.

You woke up to the sound of traffic, the smell of something cooking, and a distant murmuring of voices. The previous night came back to you in pieces, and as you rolled over to reach for your phone, you saw you’d only slept a measly six hours.

Enough for some people to survive on perhaps. Certainly not you. You did very briefly entertain the thought of going back to sleep, but the allure of food called towards you. Your belly grumbled very briefly.

Taking in a big sigh, and reluctant to leave the messy cocoon of blankets you’d made during your sleep, you swung your legs out of the bed and let your toes meet the floor. You should have brought slippers, or a robe, or something warmer. Nine in the morning, or thereabouts, was not a time designed for you.

You snatched your phone up and stared despairingly at the time.

Staggering towards the exit, you fought the urge to yawn, feeling your eyes water and nose tingle with the effort. Easing the door open a gap, you dared stick your head through the open space.

It was just Eddie at the kitchen, talking to what seemed to be himself. Despite the fact the door had made zero noise as you’d opened it, he straightened, unnervingly, and turned to face you.

“Good morning,” he greeted cheerfully, but seemed to have trouble meeting your eye. You wondered if you looked a mess. He seemed chagrined as he added, “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” you asked, brain not fully online. You wish the shirt you’d slept in had sleeves. You felt more goosebump than human. Did Eddie not believe in heating?

“For V. Last night,” he clarified, and turned abruptly back to what he was doing. It was sizzling. It smelled amazing.

“Is some of that for me?” you asked curiously, deciding to a dig a hole and lie in it. Settling down on the sofa, you tucked one leg underneath you, determined to keep at least one foot warm.

“Of course.” Eddie sounded offended you’d insinuated anything else. “I mean, I know I eat a lot but I’m not so mean as to send a guest off without breakfast. Coffee?”

Oh god, bless this man.

“Yes, please. Strong as you can dare to make it.” You tried to keep too much of the hope from your voice but by the way Eddie’s shoulders were gently shaking in what you assumed was laughter and not cold, you’d failed.

“Strong as I can dare make it, miss caramel latte with at least six sugars?”

You scoffed and the yawn hiding in your chest managed to escape.

“That’s afternoon coffee. This is waking up coffee. Pleasure versus business.”

“Should’ve known.” Eddie sounded mirthful and you chose to just bury yourself further into the corner of the couch you’d picked out. You didn’t reply and instead dozed lightly to the sound of water boiling and the soft clink of cutlery and plates.

There was a muted thud of something hitting wood and you opened your eyes to Eddie setting down a plate of breakfast - a nearly ridiculous amount of bacon, eggs, and toast - and a mug of black coffee onto the table in front of the couch.

“Breakfast.” Eddie greeted cheerfully as he returned to the kitchen for his own, even more massively stacked plate.

“The most important meal of the day.” You managed to mumble and dared a sip of scalding coffee. It was the most bitter thing you’d ever had and it was beautiful.

“Every meal is important if you ask me,” Eddie said, almost philosophically, and dug into his food with the fervour of a starving man.

“Were you waiting for me to wake up?” You couldn’t help but ask, drawing your own plate onto your lap.

“Oh, no, no.” Eddie shook his head, bacon dangling from his fork. “This is just second breakfast.” He flashed a grin at you, with almost too many teeth. You wondered if the first breakfast included heads. You decided your belly was didn’t have enough in it to warrant emptying all over the coffee table. Odds were you weren’t sick - just hungry talking about food.

You ate the toast first. Cutlery required coordination you currently didn’t possess. Between bites, you took riskier and risker sips of your coffee until it was at such an acceptable temperature that you could put the plate down, cradle the mug between both hands, and chug what was left, letting the warmth infuse you straight down to the bone.

“Thirsty?” Eddie was far too awake and far too bemused for the time of morning.

“Caffeine,” you grunted back and resumed your breakfast. Eddie finished his in record time, and when he took his plate and your mug back to the kitchen, he returned with the mug topped up again.

Bless the world for Eddie Brock.

And damnit, you’d said that out loud. There was no need for heating. Your face would keep you warm.

“Coffee,” Eddie managed, rubbing the back of his neck as he sat back down. “Way to get into your best graces I see.”

“As if you already didn’t know,” you managed to titter weakly back, busying yourself with trying to eat your breakfast without having to use a knife because effort, honestly.

“I really should have noticed the signs,” he agreed and fell silent, leaving you to your burning cheeks and eggs.

There was nothing but the sound of your fork against the plate and the sound of the traffic below you on the streets before he spoke again. He waited, at least, until you’d reached to put the plate down, full and sated.

“Honestly though, I’m really sorry. I should say _we_ are sorry, but Venom refuses to believe it did anything wrong last night. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

You picked the mug up and tucked both legs underneath you this time, almost in a kneeling position with the arm and the back of the sofa cradling you.

“Less uncomfortable? I was more pissed off than anything,” you admitted. “I mean, sneaking into my house? Just sitting there as I slept?” You could almost see your reflection in the coffee it was so dark. You were glad Eddie had least taken you seriously. You finished it off and set it down next to your plate.

“I’ve had a word. Several,” Eddie promised. “About boundaries, about - about what’s acceptable and what’s not. Permission and stuff. Trespassing isn’t really a word in the vocabulary, but I think it got the jist of it.”

There was a fifty-fifty percent chance that what you were about to do would go tits up.  But you’d finished your coffee, you needed to pee, and you wanted to get into warmer clothes. You also wanted to get the awkwardness over with. Eddie was just a bystander in this, after all.

“Can it do the thing from yesterday? The floaty - “ you mimed with your hand, mimicking a talking face with fingers and thumb next to your head.

Almost immediately Venom coiled out into what almost seemed like a small, contrite ball of shape. It was definitely smaller than the previous evening. It probably felt guilt - or Eddie had introduced it to the concept.

Good. Sort of.

“Morning.” You greeted. The head bobbed with uncertainty, feeding more mass until it was nearly back to its normal size.

 **_“Wanted you to be safe,”_ ** it murmured in greeting.

“I know,” you replied, warmly. Venom bobbed again.

 **_“Sorry.”_ ** It added, eyes sliding over as if to gauge Eddie’s reaction to the apology. Eddie seemed almost pleased, like a proud parent. He murmured something that, even that close, you couldn’t hear.

From the movement of Eddie’s mouth it almost looked like he’d called Venom ‘babe’. You decided it certainly wasn’t any of your concern.

“I know, Eddie’s already said.” You untucked your legs, bettering your position on the sofa so your centre of gravity was nice and solid.

Venom seemed to relax. You almost felt bad.

Then you remembered he broke into your house, probably watched you sleep, most definitely watched you pee, and with only the slightest hint of remorse, you rabbit-punched the floating head right where the nose would be - because you were _not_ splitting your knuckles on sharp teeth again.

It popped, sort of like a water balloon, if the water balloon had been filled with custard, or pudding. Eddie made a strangled noise in his throat, half horror, half a laugh and immediately shifted to cross one leg over the other tightly.

“But _that_ ,” you said cheerfully, gathering yourself to your feet and picking up your phone. “Was for everything else. I’ll see you later Eddie. Are you still okay to apartment-babysit when I go pick up a new door hinge?”

“Uh-huh,” Eddie managed, his voice breaking on the second syllable. The black remnants of Venom were slowly collecting, and where they touched Eddie’s skin they seeped in underneath and disappeared. Eddie seemed very intent on staring at his knee. His hands were folded on his lap so tight his knuckles had gone white.

You wondered if he was trying to convince Venom that you didn’t need an untimely death via teeth and claws.

“Great! I’ll see you later.” You gave a jaunty wave, pretending that your heart wasn’t going nuts in your chest for having punched Venom a second time. You managed to make it into the living room of your own apartment, door safely wedged in, before you broke into hysterical giggles, hand pressed to your mouth.

* * *

 

Two hours later - well, approximately, at least - you were staring at your phone, wondering if it actually _was_ appropriate to text Eddie to look after your stuff when you’d just punched what amounted to his other self hard enough to explode.

You wondered if he would come over just to eat you. There certainly weren’t that many happy chemicals in your brain - and you really tried not to think of it in _that_ way. Attempting to rationalise to _yourself_ why you wouldn’t make good lunch to the monster next door that ate heads was just scaring yourself further.

And Venom had already survive one punch and _liked it!_ What would a second punch do except nothing more than the first had already. Right?

Then you went down a different tangent of - would it be rude to text Eddie when you lived next to him and could knock on the door? Did he even have to be _in_ your apartment to look after it? You could be halfway out the building and phone him under the pretense you’d forgotten to ask.

The decisions were mounting. They were all difficult. You tapped the toe of your shoe on the floor nervously and paced around the room in random patterns a few times. On the third pass, you stopped by the windowsill and stared at the aloe. Hardy thing. Looked lovely.

To hell with it.

You shoved your phone into your purse and made sure to lump the laptop and anything vaguely expensive or vaguely embarrassing left out in sight into the bedroom.

Good. Now it looked moderately lived in and not a garbage heap. Then you stared at the hole in your floor and wondered why you even cared of his opinion, considering he’d certainly seen it in a worse state.

Honestly, for real, you brain would not be a fun thing to eat. At this point, whether you were reassuring yourself, or the imaginary Venom of the future, you didn’t know.

Either way, it was go time. You would not live the rest of your days in this apartment with the ever lurking threat of ‘not safe’ from Venom breaking in. Not that it could be considered breaking in when, you know, the state of the door.

You wiggled the door out of it’s wedged in state. More plaster fell from the ceiling. Aiden was on the other side.

“You know, the elevator’s out,” he said, trying for cheerful, a non-sequitur.

You shoved the door straight back into place, wishing it had the emphasis you could have achieved by slamming it.

“It’s okay!” he called through the gap. “Your mother let me know where you lived. She said you were a little too scared to make the leap yourself.”

It was not okay. Whatever going on was the opposite of okay. You locked yourself into your bedroom where you couldn’t hear him aside from the faintest words and tried to remember how to breathe properly, when your lungs refused to work and felt like bricks in your chest.

God, you were such a coward. The one in the wrong being forgiven. The sinner forgiven for her sins by the one she hurt. But you couldn’t do it. Looking at his face had _hurt._ There were no reminders you could see, none he’d been hurt, but the memory of his face, his _smile._

You clenched your hand so hard you felt nauseous. There was probably blood - lord knows you hadn’t had enough time to heal from your phone induced injury from before.

Everything else seemed far away in terms of how bad of a trouble they were. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t breathe, that your hand was aching, that your head was pounding because none of it surmounted to the fact that Aiden was only two doors away. Not even two.

The last time you’d seen him, truly seen him, was from the doorway of a hospital room where he was more bandage and wires and tubes than human being. You’d made him like that. _You._

There was a solid knock at the window, loud enough to startle, loud enough it felt like it had reverberated through the wall.

Panic-stricken you almost refused to look, convinced that it would just be Aiden’s face all over again.

But no. It was Venom, hanging outside your window like the worlds biggest, ugliest crow. He noticed you’d seen him, and knocked a single knuckle against your window again, softer this time. He cocked his head and then turned his hand to point down towards the lock.

It was between the devil at the door, or the devil at the window.

Really, there wasn’t much of a choice to be made.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter could have been longer (it's the shortest) but continuing would have broken the tension and doing it this way lets me open the next chapter a little easier ;) any mistakes you found are a by-product of writing this within an hour from 11:30pm onwards lmfao what is a normal sleep schedule
> 
> Not Featured:  
> \- Eddie shovelling bacon as fast as possible into his face before they heard you leave the bedroom so he wouldn't look overly gluttonous for the 'social breakfast'.  
> \- Boners were involved (thanks Venom)  
> \- Eddie managing to convince Venom to not break in just because breaking in might not always equal one punch. It might equal zero friendship.  
> \- A long stint of convincing Venom that eating Aiden is not the right way to go. You have the right to deal with this in your own time. If you say it's cool to eat Aiden well...Eddie will consider it.  
> \- "omg we're like spiderman" when hanging at the window to rescue you.  
> \- Flustered isn't a strong enough for how Eddie felt when you'd said 'bless the world for eddie brock'.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sort-of plan being made. Not set in motion, but there's always Plan B: Eat everything including the evidence.
> 
> Eddie shows you his pride and joy. You have a few doubts.

“You okay?” Eddie asked. He passed you a water bottle which you took gratefully, if a little numbly.

In lieu of answer you just stared at your new acquisition. You had no idea where you were. You knew for a fact your hair was probably a state, because Venom had whipped through the city at dizzying speeds and while his arm had been tight around you, you’d held on so tight you’d felt his body distorting under your fingers.

“Where are we?” you asked. Your fingers were trembling but you managed to get the lid off of the bottle. Step one complete. Go you.

“Still in San Francisco,” Eddie assured, and sat down next to you on the bench that he’d dumped you on after Venom had peeled back and Eddie had guided you from a dark alley to the quiet corner of the city he’d found.

People were passing by, but hardly enough to be called busy. Two people had passed in the fifteen or so minutes you’d been there.

“Cool.” You took a sip from the bottle. You sloshed maybe half a mouthful straight into your lap. Step two failed. Nevermind. The bottle went back down. The lid went back on. You squeezed it, felt the plastic strain under your grip.

You didn’t know how to feel.

Eddie’s hand closed around yours. The bottle stopped squeaking and creaking alarmingly as you loosened your grip. An ache you didn’t realise you’d cultivated in your knuckles eased off.

“I’m not okay,” you added, needlessly. “Not really.”

“I kind of gathered that. It’s just polite to ask.” Eddie successfully take the bottle from your near death grip and set it next to him. “But, if you don’t mind my asking, it’s almost like you’re...afraid of him?”

Don’t snap at Eddie, he’s just being helpful, don’t snap, you reminded yourself pointlessly. You slumped down, throwing your hands over your eyes.

“I’m pathetic,” you said miserably instead. You were also tired. “You’re right. He should be afraid of me, but I’m afraid of him.”

“Now, I said nothing about him being afraid of you,” Eddie said, almost scoldingly. “I’m just saying that it’s kind of...you know. An extreme reaction.”

“I’ve got to say it,” you began, “that just because _you’re_ desensitised to violence and murder and killing people, it doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

“Point.” Eddie sounded sheepish. It was a hollow victory. “But if you’d asked me that a few years ago I’m sure I’d be just like you. I just have…” he gestured loosely to himself. There was no doubt as to what he was referencing.

“I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.” You hunched forward, pressing your hands harder to your eyes. Colour bloomed behind your eyelids and an ache started to form.

“It’s fine.” Eddie consoled, his hand moving to rest gently between your shoulder blades, as if he were afraid of startling an animal. “The way I see it, you’re right. I’m desensitised. What happened is that this guy, Aiden, he got the physical damage so you think he’s the one that should be having the second thoughts. _But_ you applied violence to someone you loved, by accident, nearly fatal, and the mental and emotional toll that has taken on you is obviously greater than the one it’s taken on him to be able to face you like that. He thinks because he’s healthy and healed, that maybe you are too - or maybe he hasn’t considered that you were hurt in the first place.”

“Stop it.” Your voice broke and you felt tears burn. “I get it. You’ve psychoanalysed me, thank you. I didn’t think it would be so bad in words.”

Eddie’s hand move from between your shoulders to reach across you and cup the far side, pulling you down into his side. Almost shamefully, you took a hand away from your face to reach across his middle, grasping at his shirt. His free hand came up to cover yours.

“I’m sorry.” He sounded genuine. “I’m sorry that I put it that way. But the fact you agrees helps me understand it too.”

Something warm wriggled between your fingers, sliding down to the skin of your wrist, where it then proceeded to wrap around your arm twice over. A quick glance showed the inky black mass of Venom coiled around where your hands joined.

“How did you know?” you asked, adjusting to cushion your head better on his shoulder. Eddie was fairly firm and made of muscle. It hurt your neck and wasn’t hugely comfortable. It felt good for you emotionally though.

“You probably didn’t notice, but when you put your front door back into place it made some pretty grim crunching noises. I poked my head out, gave the guy a wave, pretended I was leaving and then we legged it to the rooftop. Easy enough to figure out where you were hiding - you have three windows and I figured giving you warning would be better than just squeezing in through one of the other windows and frightening you.”

“Thanks for taking my feelings into consideration,” you replied without a hint of sarcasm. Eddie’s arm squeezed you gently, as did the connection around your wrist. You turned your head down to address it. “Thank you to you too.”

You sat in silence for a long moment. Slowly but surely you felt less like crying.

“What are you going to do now?” Eddie asked you gently. “Are you still planning on moving?”

And now you were desperately trying not to water up again. Damnit Eddie.

“I don’t know.” You admitted. Now you were miserable again when you’d nearly had it under control.

“The way I see it you have a couple of options. You move apartments to somewhere where he doesn’t know. You try your best to suck it all up and talk to him _or_ the nuclear option.”

“What’s the nuclear option?” you asked after a second of sniffling quietly, trying to ignore the burn behind your eyes.

“We’re going to get you a new door, with a peephole. Next time he knocks, you check the door. It’s him, you call us. And then we tell him what for.”

“Aiden’s tenacious. He won’t back down just because you tell him to.”

“I didn’t say _me_ . I said _we.”_

You paused.

“Oh.”

“Oh.” Eddie agreed and you felt he was grinning. You wondered if he relished the thought of scaring your ex-boyfriend. You were kind of relishing it yourself already.

There was a sudden click-hiss noise that pervaded the silence that crept between you, and you glanced down, startled.

Venom was grinning up at you, hiding in the shadows cast by your nearly twined bodies.

“Was that...was that the _Alien_ noise?” It was nearly impressive, in fact. It had thrown you back to when you’d first watched the horror movie, had heard the hissing, clicking noise of the monster that had stalked the halls of an imaginary ship.

And then you couldn’t help it. You snorted.

“What?” Eddie asked, but he sounded amused and not alarmed.

“The similarities,” you pointed out. “Big black alien. Sharp teeth. Eats people.”

“Can’t believe we’ve never made the connection.”

You wriggled the arm out that had been trapped between you and Eddie to reach out carefully and scratch under Venom’s chin. It let you, stretching out the tendril it used as a neck to give you more access.

“Sorry for punching you,” you murmured. “I should have used my words.”

“Don’t.” Eddie was suddenly stern, but he wasn’t talking to you, his face tight as he looked down at Venom.

You got the sudden realisation that, probably, you didn’t need to apologise and that it was one of those ‘snap in half with your pretty hands’ moments.

You thought about drawing your hand back, but Venom was content to lean its weight on the crook of your fingers despite the fact it had shown the ability to hold itself upright.

“Right…” you murmured, and sighed, wondering if you went home now Aiden would still be there. “I suppose I should get my life together and quit my job.”

Eddie laughed so hard that it shook you off his shoulder and Venom made the most indignant noise you didn’t think something with that many teeth could as he was subsequently rattled away from your fingers.

“Well, what else do you suggest?”

“I’ve already put my options on the table,” Eddie murmured, even as Venom uncoiled from your hand holding onto Eddie so you could sit upright and try to feel more dependent.

“Ah yes, the ‘I’ll answer your door and show him my many, many teeth’.”

“Why grandma,” Eddie replied mockingly, and took the gentle punch to the shoulder with good grace. He faltered a little as you leaned over and into his space, but it was only so you could grab the water bottle.

“I want to try...to…” you hummed and hawed, frustrated the words wouldn’t make themselves known. “I don’t want to run any more, but I also don’t understand why I should be forced into the problem just because he wants to resolve it and I don’t.”

“Just tell him as it is,” Eddie suggested.

“What? I’m sorry my mother convinced you to move city and find a new job based on a relationship I ended three years ago but I don’t want to have to see your face anymore?”

Eddie’s humorous countenance faded for a second.

“When you put it that way it kind of feels like stalking,” he said. The word immediately made you feel uncomfortable and you took a swig of water to try and avoid thinking about it.

A loud bird called overhead as you lowered the bottle, licking your lips.

“It isn’t really malicious,” you replied weakly. “More like...he wants a resolution?”

“It doesn’t change the fact that he has put you in very tight corner. He’s moved a considerable distance to find you. He got your address from a third party. He works at the job you’ve had since god knows how long.”

**_“We should eat him.”_ **

The mouthful of water you’d tried to take nearly came out your nose you were so startled, forgetting that Venom had been lingering all this time.

“Eating him would fix one problem and cause another,” you sighed in reply. “But thanks for trying.” You reached to scratch under Venom’s weird little chin thing again. It’s eyes narrowed in content.

You watched, feeling something almost fond lump itself in your chest, a smile tugging at your lips and creasing your tired eyes. What a strange, alien thing, to care for you like this and have little patience for anyone else not in the immediate vicinity.

“Let’s go home, huh?” you asked instead, and ignored how Eddie looked at you, knowing you were very obviously avoiding the subject of Aiden and laying it to rest for now.

* * *

Aiden wasn’t there. You sent Eddie ahead while you lingered like some sort of crook in an alleyway across from the apartment complex. He’d poked his head out of the - still broken - front entrance and waved you over.

Bypassing the - still broken - elevator, you both walked up the stairs in companionable silence, a silence that you broke with a quite lucrative curse.

“I forgot to get a new door,” you said in explanation, digging out your phone to check what the time was. Not too late. You’d only been gone and had an existential crisis for just under two hours. “You go ahead.”

“I’ll come with,” he immediately and easily offered.

“It’s okay.” You shook your head. “They’re probably going to have to deliver anyway, we don’t need two people for that.”

“It’s a good what, hour journey from here on public transport? I can get you there twice as fast, if not faster.”

The thought of swinging around in Venom’s arms again while appealing, also set you on edge. You’d managed to refrain from vomiting the first time. The second or any subsequent times might not be the same.

“We might get into a police chase if that’s the case,” you joked, “I mean, Venom is kind of public enemy number one in terms of death count. I'm surprised that there wasn't an incident there or back.”

Eddie stared uncomprehendingly at you, as if you’d spoken complete gibberish. For a long second you wondered if you had.

“Oh! Oh, no, not like that. Wait here.” He waved a hand at you, as if it would convince you to stay and not walk away or follow him and then he sprinted up the stairs, taking two at a time.

The second you couldn’t hear his boots thumping you started to feel nervous and paranoid all in one. There was nowhere to hide in the stairwell between floors where Eddie had left you.

He returned fairly quickly, not even out of breath for his mad sprint up the remaining floors. In one of his hands was a helmet.

It didn’t take long to connect the pieces.

“You have a _bike?”_ You tried not to sound aghast and then failed. But it really did suit his image. The sheepish grin on his face didn’t help.

“Perfectly safe, I promise you. And faster - and more hygienic - than public transport I can _definitely_ promise you that.”

“I don’t know the statistics of bike injuries but I’m sure they’re higher than the subway,” you replied automatically, but let Eddie herd you eagerly down the stairs, accepting the helmet he pushed into your hands. You tried not to dwell on the fact that there was one helmet and not two.

Venom was good for road abrasions and skull fractures right?

“It’ll be fine,” Eddie promised again, leading you down the road. The bike came into view, surprisingly untouched for the neighbourhood it was kept in, and he gestured widely to it almost proudly.

“It’s...nice?” you offered. You knew nothing about bikes. Maybe you should sneak out and order a door tomorrow so you wouldn’t have to get onto the back of it.

“Oh, no need to try so hard.” Eddie took the helmet from your hands and crammed it - gently - onto your head. You spluttered and slapped his hands away, adjusting it so it settled comfortably over your head.

It was a little nerve-wracking. You don’t think you can do it.

“I - “ you began, watching as Eddie kicked down the pegs you assumed your feet would rest on.

“It’ll be fine. And quick.”

“The quick part I’m kind of worried about,” you admitted, but dutifully clipped the strap of the helmet securely under your chin. You were glad you’d chosen jeans as your warm clothing that morning.

Eddie climbed onto the bike with a motion of practiced ease. Both feet rest easy on the ground, but he didn’t kick the the stand up yet.

“Up you get,” he said cheerfully, almost excited. You wondered when the last time he’d used his bike was, when he could just easily propel himself through the air as Venom. If you could handle something that exhilarating you’d be able to handle a bike ride that followed both the laws of physics and the road.

“Okay. Okay, how do I - “

“Right, left foot on the left peg, swing your right leg over. You’re going to have to grab onto me, there’s no bar.”

Immediate no from you. You said as much.

“Nope, can’t do it.”

Eddie turned to frown at you, but it was mocking or disparaging, just questioning.

“Remember when you asked what triggers the uh, breaking of things, _bones included?_ If I get scared I’m going to turn you into mush.”

“Just,” Eddie began, “just climb on. Trust me.”

You hesitatingly put your left leg on the peg, arms reaching to grab at his jacket, loosely, either side of his waist. You tugged gently, to make sure the grip was secure enough, and nearly heard the eye-roll Eddie gave at your delicacy. But there wasn’t any slack and you easily pulled yourself up. The bike didn’t even rock beneath you, but you were pressed chest to back against Eddie, knees tucked up around him.

The engine rumbled into life below you, and you felt your fingers reflexively tighten, before you forced yourself to loosen the grip. You didn’t want to rip a hole in Eddie’s jacket. You wanted to rip a hole in him even less.

“So what we’re going to do,” Eddie said pleasantly, “is this. Let go, but keep your hands there.”

Your knees were nearly flush against his hips, your hands a scant few inches above. You loosened your fingers, so your hands were just resting on his sides, bracketing his waist. From the jacket itself, black flowed over your hands and knees, connecting you tightly to Eddie.

You gave a test tug. No give. Unless you tried real hard like with your first meeting of Venom, you probably wouldn’t budge.

“Good idea,” you murmured, approvingly almost. It made you feel safe. Venom coiled underneath the bend of your knees, wrapping around them snugly. You were literally fused to Eddie’s back. It would take considerable effort to get yourself loose.

“Super safe. And an excuse to go fast.” You could feel the humour in Eddie’s voice by the way his back rumbled and whatever you wanted to say was lost in the rev of the engine as Eddie kicked up the stand, encouraged the bike into the road and let it roar.

Oh well. If Eddie _did_ want a hole ripped into him by the end of it, he’d get it.

But you were sure, despite the whipping wind, he heard you laugh nearly the entire way there with how fun it was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, reader is trying to be an adult about it, but trauma is trauma.
> 
> Not Featured:  
> \- Genuine fear that your screaming as you hurtle through San Francisco's Skyline might actually hit the pitch and volume it needs to hurt Venom.  
> \- Then (inside) laughter at the screaming.  
> \- Venom conflicted that you're using your strength to hold on which is A+ but the circumstances surrounding it are a solid -2/10  
> \- Eddie taking the bottle both out of concern for you, and concern that it's going to explode and then everybody will be sad AND wet.  
> \- Eddie low-key horrified that he actually kind of is desensitised to extreme violence that punching a man badly enough to like, turn him into half a corpse doesn't seem that bad to him considering Venom causes either: full corpses or no corpses.  
> \- Venom wasn't serious about the 'eat him' comment. Just wanted to try and make you smile.  
> \- You get off the bike at the other end. Eddie is just COVERED in dead bugs. It's hilarious. Always wear a helmet kids!!

**Author's Note:**

> I think you all already know I’m a monsterfucker by now OTL
> 
> Any hints, tips, tricks on characterisations would be great!


End file.
